


Summit Fever

by LevelSetPower



Series: Summit Fever Series [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Background Relationships, Copious mountain facts, Fluff, M/M, Mild Peril, Mingi/Hongjoong, Mount Everest, Mountain Guide!Jongho, Mountaineering, Mountains, Mt Everest is closed this year so here you go, Potentially a bit scary but hopefully not too scary?, Respect Sherpas, Seonghwa/Yunho, Yes you heard me right it's a Mt Everest AU, wooyoung/san - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23249530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LevelSetPower/pseuds/LevelSetPower
Summary: All except Jongho, of course, who keeps himself squirrelled away in the Leader’s tent, checking weather forecasts and carabiners with Yunho. Yeosang continues to be intrigued by him, and his standoffish professionalism. Who even signs up to take rich people up a mountain if you hate rich people on mountains?__Jongho and Wooyoung pay, like many people actually do, to climb Mount Everest.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang
Series: Summit Fever Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778674
Comments: 92
Kudos: 145





	1. Pre-Departure

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!!! Ok so I'm pretty obsessed with both ATEEZ and Mount Everest in general, and I usually monitor the expeditions on the mountain every year, but since it's been closed this year, and I am in dire need for Everest content, here you go. I will try to update regularly and not make this too focussed on climbing at the expense of JongSang, because JongSang needs more love.

8,848 metres.

Straight up.

Ice that moves under your feet as you try to climb up it. Crevasses the size of a car just waiting to swallow you up. Winds faster than a high speed train bashing you with no cover in sight. Drops of thousands of metres everywhere around you, almost teasing you with how easy it would be to just slip and fall. Oxygen at 30% of its levels on the surface, the pathetic excuse for air slowly killing you every second you spend in a place whose name is literally _The Death Zone_.

What was he doing? Not like the ‘I bought three packs of toaster waffles, how am I ever going to eat these? What am I doing?’ kind of _What am I doing?_. Not the ‘I just pushed in front of a nice old lady on the bus. What am I doing?’ kind of _What am I doing?._ A totally different kind of _What am I doing?._

Yeosang was just a dude. A humble hedge fund manager (or so he tells himself to be able to sleep at night). He had been minding his own boujee business at his firm in Chicago when Wooyoung from HR (who Yeosang refuses to call his friend, but admits to himself that they are in fact best friends when no one is looking) had sent him a link to Long Journey Trekking’s Everest expedition page, along with several keyboard smashes and the phrase “fucking cool” at least seven times. They were having a sale.

_Who even has a sale on, like, death wishes?_ Yeosang wonders.

Wooyoung was what some would call an ‘adrenaline junkie’ and what others would call a ‘dumbass’. He had base jumped, he had scuba dived, he had tried the Portillo’s chocolate shake that apparently has mayonnaise in it. He’d done it all.

Except this.

Now, Yeosang wasn’t a weak dude. He gymmed four times a week. He had actually climbed El Cap on a recent team-building trip to Yosemite (okay, he’d gone up the shallow hiking trails on the other side, not the side from Free Solo, but still). He had excellent upper body strength, endurance, and nerve. He also had the $66,000 that the website cheerfully listed as the price for the _Everest South Route Expedition_ package. Hedge fund manager, yeah?

Wooyoung knew Yeosang was the only person in the office both physically fit enough, and mentally stupid enough, to even consider agreeing to this.

Maybe it wasn’t stupidity. Maybe he was bored with his typie-typie job and his bland, vacant apartment. Maybe he wanted to do something insanely dangerous and insanely reckless just to feel like a person again. Wait, when did he stop feeling like a person? If he doesn’t feel like a person, what does he even feel like?

He’s scared by the fact that he doesn’t know.

He replies to Wooyoung’s email with his typical on-brand “No.” But he knows he’ll be worn down soon enough by puppy-dog eyes and surprise gifted Poke bowls.

A mere two weeks later, Yeosang is staring at the completed application form on his laptop for Long Journey Trekking. He had even entered his CCV, and Wooyoung was sounding off on FaceTime to him from his Gold Coast apartment.

“Dude, we’re gonna enter the elite club! Tenzing Norgay! Edmund Hillary! Everest himself! This has been my dream for so long and now, it will come to fruition!”

“I don’t think the guy Everest ever climbed the mountain Everest, babe,” San chimed in, obviously already roped into these high-altitude hijinks. San, unlike Wooyoung and Yeosang, was a graduate student in Sociology, and actually, like, read sometimes. “And also, has this really been your lifelong dream?”

“Really? Huh. Well, good thing you don’t need brains to climb this fucker!” Wooyoung all but shouted, flexing his mediocre biceps for San’s elation. “And of course it has been! Have I not mentioned it before?”

“You have literally never mentioned it before. Also, I think you need some kind of brain, man. It’s, like, cold and dangerous and windy and shit.” Yeosang attempted.

“Nope! Legs. Ya need legs. How are you gonna climb a mountain if you skip leg day?” Wooyoung levelled.

“I am one thousand percent sure that at some point a dude climbed Mount Everest who had no legs- look why are we even having this discussion? Why are we even doing this right now? Why are we burning money on this?”

“Save the money burning for the mountain, bro. Shit’s cold. Also, the dude who climbed Everest who had no legs was called Mark Inglis.” San advised.

“You gotta live, don’t you?” Wooyoung challenged, and Yeosang stared down at his keyboard, avoiding eye contact with his phone. “We could really push ourselves here, man. We could see the most beautiful things! The curvature of the Earth!” Wooyoung then ruffled San’s hair and added: “my smart little Sannie-pumpkin, I love youuuu.”

“Yeah, would be good to get that argument settled with evidence from a reliable source,” San said as he leaned into Wooyoung for a kiss. Right in front of Yeosang’s salad (this is not a joke, he was actually eating a salad when Wooyoung called. Nutrients are important, okay?).

“I recognise and appreciate your faith in me, babe,” says Wooyoung, before turning to look at Yeosang through the LCD screen. “Look man, we earn shitloads of money, and what do we do with it?” This was clearly intended to provoke some revelation in Yeosang that he had, in fact, not really been grabbing life by the balls; that he was accumulating funds but not putting them to good use. At this juncture, Yeosang thought about his new bladeless fan, his premium New York Times subscription, his recent trip to Wisconsin for cheese curds, his Bitcoin investment...

“Well, I have a pretty nice stake in Bitcoin coming alo-” Wooyoung grabs the phone and brings it right up to his face by way of interruption.

“No! This is what I’m saying! We spend it on stuff that doesn’t even exist! What’s the point of majoring in Econ at UChicago if we don’t reap the rewards! We took remedial Macro for this?!”

“Hey, I thought UChicago was pretty okay,” Yeosang lies. He did not, in fact, think UChicago was pretty okay.

“We don't experience things, Yeosang! The world is big and wide and, most notably here, tall! Do you even have any idea of the scale of the bigness of Mount Everest?! Any idea of what this little planet of ours has? We have to go out and see the stuff, dude! The stuff! Plus, if you went, you’d be helping me do this thing that I’ve been thinking about for years! Together! A climbing partner is of paramount importance on any mountaineering mission!”

“Yeah, and it’s not like you’re going to, like, die or anything.” San says, but with every word, he sounds more unsure, as if he has just remembered what a mountain is, “right?”

“Of course not, babe. People only die when there’s a big avalanche! I’ve seen the movies! I’ve already checked the forecast for this year, and there’s meant to be excellent weather. There’s even predicted to be a two-week summit window this year! That’s double the usual!” Wooyoung was correct, in the sense that the usual summit window for Mount Everest is usually about a week after the bitter winter recedes just a little, and before Monsoon season comes in and makes snow everywhere, which is not conducive to trying to climb something. Take it from me, dear reader.

“Well, actually people can die from a variety of events on mountains. Overcrowding, surprise medical emergencies, falls…” Yeosang trails off as Wooyoung’s pixelated death stare seems to intensify as he wraps his arms tighter around San, “but, don’t worry San! Wooyoung and I will be fine.” he finds himself saying, unsure of when exactly in this conversation he became convinced he was actually going to do this.

The amount of glee on Wooyoung’s face is indescribable. “Yeah, man!! That's the fucking spirit! Adventurers! You and me! Climbing shit! As bros! Okay, let’s submit this bastard, on 3, 2, 1....”

8,848 metres. It was going to take a lot longer than three seconds to tackle that.


	2. Kathmandu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I actually just returned from an expedition to the Vinson Massif. Anyone here ever been to the Vinson Massif?” he left approximately 0.3 seconds of silence before answering his own, non-rhetorical, question, “Thought not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!! I was so happy to see people liked the first chapter and well, it's not like I have anywhere to be these days, so here's an update and I hope to update super regularly going on as well!

After about a week, Yeosang received an email with the subject line  _ Everest South Side Expedition - Congratulations! _

The email confirms Yeosang has been selected to move to the next phase of the expedition, which, to Yeosang’s surprise, does not involve a full medical, but some self-reported health data and a “suggested” diet and exercise plan in preparation for departure. It also contains some information about their Expedition Leader.

_ We are thrilled to announce that accomplished climber and guide Jongho Choi will be leading our team on this summit bid. Choi has successfully summited Everest three times, in 2011, 2013 and 2015. He has also completed the Seven Summits, as the youngest American to do so. His excellence in planning, organization and support will ensure your enjoyable and safe trip to the highest summit on Earth. He cannot wait to meet his team for this Long Journey Trekking expedition!  _

Yeosang’s eyes widen at this. The dude sounds insane. Yeosang can’t even  _ name _ the Seven Summits. There’s a summit in Antarctica?  But the blurb does settle (somewhat) the constant churning in Yeosang’s stomach of late, knowing that someone with that level of expertise would be there to guide him. He imagined a muscled, rugged guy with a warm smile, protecting Yeosang in his arms as they cli-

_ Whoa, Yeosang. Calm down. You’re paying the guy tens of thousands of dollars to (hopefully) make sure you don’t die from exposure or get crushed by a big icicle, not take you on a fucking dinner date and to a salsa class.  _

Yeosang bets the dude isn’t even hot. He probably has one of those dark grey frostbitten noses or something. 

Oh who is he fucking kidding, the dude is _definitely_ going to be hot. 

He follows the diet and exercise plan, carrying a large backpack as he jogs in the early morning with Wooyoung. They set up treadmills in Wooyoung and San’s spare room and take turns running on the highest speed and incline while carrying dumbbells in a climbing pack. He absolutely, 100%, does not feel ready.

But nonetheless, time marches on.

They fly to Kathmandu amongst a gaggle of people who look much more qualified for this shit than them. Dudes with sunburnt noses from time spent climbing ice ridges in the Andes, women with scars on their hands from rock falls, people for some reason on the plane in their snowsuits. Once they arrive they go to their rather nice hotel, especially nice considering where they will soon call home. They spent half a day getting over jetlag and lazing in the hotel room. Yeosang thinks back to those projects he’d left half-finished. _ The Regenstein acquisition - was it going okay?  _

Yeosang then remembered that the whole point of this trip was to  _ stop _ thinking about the Regenstein acquisition and start living. 

They were told to gather in the conference room of the hotel (Yeosang’s snobby ass had initially thought _ “what? They only have one?” _ ) at six-thirty for their initial briefing and their chance to meet the team.  _ Including Jongho Choi _ , Yeosang’s gay, gay brain helpfully reminded him. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung meandered down around six twenty-five and found a small crowd outside the designated Long Journey Trekking room. A couple of guys holding some piles of paper brushed past the group, not acknowledging Wooyoung, Yeosang or any of the other clients  _ (customers? cannon fodder? Yeosang would have to work on that one _ ) as they strode into the room and went about setting up an interactive whiteboard and flipchart. 

_ They were trusting these dudes with their literal lives up a literal mountain and they used fucking flipcharts?  _ Yeosang felt more worried about this thing than he had in weeks.

They filed into the room and Yeosang regarded his companions for the next seventy days for the first time (except Wooyoung, obviously). The two Korean-American-looking guys finished setting up and chatted between themselves until the whole team had filed in.

There were also a couple of middle-aged white people, a guy who looked to be in his early 40’s and a young couple who looked like rich “adventurer” types. 

The group sat and awkwardly chatted until one of the paperwork guys cleared his throat and drew their attention to the whiteboard, where the phrase  _ Welcome to Long Journey Trekking’s Everest South Side Expedition!  _ was written, and below it, in a smaller font,  _ If you do not pay attention I do not guarantee you will survive. _

He began, “Hello, everyone. I’m glad you all made it safely here to Kathmandu. My name is Jongho Choi, for those of you who didn’t know.” at this point, two things happen: Jongho pauses to smirk, as if  _ no one in the entire world would possibly dare to not know who he was _ , and Yeosang’s gay heart dies a little. Maybe, just maybe, that conceitedness just now was a mere moment of weakness. His romantic dream could still be alive.

“Now, today we are going to cover the entire mission’s logistics in great detail. There will be a lot of information so I suggest you take notes, especially for those himbos in our midst. We are going to discuss our route up the mountain, our planned acclimatization climbs, and our turnaround time. Yes, I know it’s early to think about the turnaround time, but you don’t summit Everest unless you’re prepared. I will also briefly introduce myself and the team who will be dragging your rich butts up the mountain for the next two and a half months.”

He gestured to the other vaguely-Korean guy who was manning the PowerPoint. “This is Yunho, my brother and our Base Camp coordinator. He will monitor weather patterns and communications with other teams from BC. His expertise is literally what separates life and death.” Yunho gave a small wave and a shy smile. The guy was nicer than Jongho, at least. A bit puppy-dog for Yeosang’s tastes, though.

“As an elite mountaineer I have been completing solo summits for the last five years, and before that I was a youth mountaineer on several successful expeditions. I’m sure you all read my bio in the email and well, while it isn’t a rull resume, it gives you a sense of my qualifications and my ambition.” Jongho’s eyes darken as he talks of his  _ ambition,  _ and it makes Yeosang feel some kinda way. This guy obviously has a passion and Yeosang really respects that, even if he does seem to think he’s the Pope or something. 

Jongho gestured then to the men standing behind the group, near the exit of the conference room. “This is Pemba, Apa, Pasang and Kami. They will be our Sherpa guides. They will carry the stuff your delicate (Yeosang notes how Jongho’s eyes roam over him as he says this particular word) bodies can’t manage, and will keep a close eye on you at a 1-3 ratio.” The Sherpas waved and smiled at the group with what Yeosang could only assume was a mix of attempts to reassure and anger at rich foreigners coming into their country and forcing them to risk their lives for no real reason as their primary form of income. 

“As the youngest American to climb the Seven Summits, you should also remember to take all the advice I give you incredibly seriously. I have summited Mount Everest thrice, twice from the more technically challenging North Side and once from the South Side. I’m hoping to even that score on this particular trip. I actually just returned from an expedition to the Vinson Massif. Anyone here ever been to the Vinson Massif?” he left approximately 0.3 seconds of silence before answering his own, non-rhetorical, question, “Thought not.”

Yeosang glanced at Wooyoung who rolled his eyes.  _ Great, a dude with a superiority complex _ . The most annoying part of it was, he was totally qualified to possess such a superiority complex.  _ What’s a massif?, _ Yeosang thought, and tried to stop the dangerous word associations going on in his head with  _ massif _ and  _ massive _ .

Jongho proceeded to drone on for over thirty-five minutes about rope technique, route choices and weather patterns; about crampons and carabiners and camps. He explained that as a guide, he didn’t take no for an answer, had never failed a summit, had never turned around. 

“If you let yourself believe failure is an option you will definitely succumb to it. Up there in the Death Zone, you aren’t getting the right amount of oxygen so you aren’t making the best decisions. If you have the option to just turn back around and go down even anywhere in your mind, you’ll probably do it. You wanna know how I did the Seven Summits?”

There was a weak nod in what Yeosang believed was the contextual equivalent of a Golf Clap. He tried to think about how this advice directly contradicted every blog, documentary and TV movie he had seen about Mount Everest, to distract himself from how  _ solid _ Jongho is. His kind, round eyes are balanced out by large, muscular shoulders and a clearly-defined set of pectoral muscles trained by years of climbing. Yeosang liked being thrown around a bit in the bedroom as much as the next guy, but Jongho projected more than just the standard aggressive “alpha” bullshit. He portrayed an air of authority and security that Yeosang, in his  _ twisted, twisted _ mind found incredibly sexy. Jongho is the kind of guy who, if Yeosang ran into him in a cafe, a bar, or even a baseball stadium bathroom (basically anywhere other than  _ Mount fucking Everest _ ), Yeosang would easily fall for him. Oh, and if he never opened his damn mouth.

“I didn’t let myself believe I could fail.” Jongho answers his own question. Yeosang thinks about some kind of cheesy movie scenario in which Yeosang nearly falls into one of those big ice holes (a  _ crevasse _ , apparently) and Jongho saves him, wrapping his big, strong arms around Yeosang’s small waist, and gently pushing the fringe out of his eyes before leaning into k-

“Kiss your movie magic ideas about what this is going to be like goodbye. I know, and I haven’t made enquiries about this with my team, but I can tell just by looking at you, that some of you are amateurs. Casting aside for a moment my opinions on the financially adept but woefully unqualified amongst us attempting to scale a rock that really should really be reserved for the big boys, I know that it is my responsibility to take care of you. It is going to be difficult, and you are not going to like it at some points, and you’re going to hate it at others. But know that I am, in my entire professional capacity, here to help.” Jongho took one more breath, locking eyes with Yeosang as he prepared to speak once more.

_ Huh _ , Yeosang thought,  _ maybe this will be a redeeming next sentence _ .

“However, know that I’m not going to enjoy it.”


	3. Journey to Base Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He spends most of the hike to base camp thinking about why Jongho is such an asshole to him. Yeosang doesn’t understand marketing, so he guesses it could be some kind of hard-to-get strategy. He likes to think he’s an attractive guy, and has a delicate, prince-like charm that could yin-yang nicely with Jongho’s jock persona. So what was this dude’s deal?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!! Thank you so much for all the positive feedback on this thing so far! I'm having a great time writing it from my isolated home, haha. Stay safe and stay inside everyone!!
> 
> Also shoutout to my friend Taz for helping me conceive of this mountainous child. 
> 
> Send me hate/love mail on Twitter! @_monsta_eggs!

The flight to Lukla was, for want of a better word,  _ shit _ . 

The plane was one of those tiny 2-by-2 prop planes, the only ones small enough to land on the KitKat of a runway at Tenzing-Hillary airport, and it does very little to withstand the winds at said airport. Yeosang actually kind of has a thing for air turbulence ( _ don’t kink shame, okay, he thinks it’s like being on a rollercoaster _ ) so he doesn’t mind so much. However, he isn’t upset that he can’t watch his plane land. 

Everyone around him looks exactly like people about to climb a big cold mountain, with colourful down suits and helmets that feel strangely at odds with the darkness and death they are about to confront. It isn’t particularly pleasant flying in large snow boots and a huge coat, but Yeosang guesses in a matter of weeks he will wish everything he ever had on the chance to sit on this rickety aeroplane again.

Apparently, as Jongho had explained along the trek to Base Camp, meetings involving all the expeditions on the mountain were not only important but essential, goings-on at Base Camp. They were the way in which teams coordinated their use of ropes, planned ascent and descent timelines, and emergency procedures. Since the guide had made it clear that he found Yeosang and Wooyoung’s inexperience laughable at best, abhorrent at worst, he took the liberty of detailing all the tiny, insignificant details of these meetings and why they were unqualified to understand them, yet still required to attend.

“So we have to coordinate between us, the Koreans, the Norwegians, the solo Serbian and the Indian border army expeditions. You understand, yeah? A lot to coordinate. We don’t want another ‘08 on K2 situation.” mumbles Jongho as he leaps across a small stream.

Wooyoung whispers into Yeosang’s ear, voice concealed by said stream. “He thinks we don’t know about ‘08 on K2, the fucker.”

Yeosang sighs, “Why would you assume, at this point, he thinks any different? He probably believes the inaccurate and simplified narratives about the actions of the Korean team in ‘08, too. He’s so far up his own ass.” Yeosang immediately regrets letting his mind drift to Jongho’s ass.  _ Ugh _ . 

“Come on, don’t pretend you wouldn’t be all up in that ass if you could be.” Wooyoung quips, with a level of observational awareness as yet unseen from him in the entire time Yeosang has known him. Yeosang ignores him and leaps across the stream. 

They continue the pattern of trek and camp and trek and camp, with nights spent in the teahouses dotted along the path. They chat with the Sherpas assigned to them, and the other members of the expedition. Yeosang and Wooyoung have been assigned Pemba, a man of about 35 who is incredibly friendly and jovial. Yeosang feels the kind of safety with him that he did with imaginary pre-this week Jongho. He can’t say he imagines himself snuggling with Pemba on the couch to watch some  _ Patriot Act _ , though.

Jongho, of course, who keeps himself squirrelled away in the Leader’s tent (it is unclear at this point why, in the face of a comfy bed and a fire, he chooses to sleep in a sleeping bag), checking weather forecasts and carabiners with Yunho, and rarely spending more time eating in the guesthouse than is strictly necessary. Yeosang continues to be intrigued by him, and his standoffish professionalism.  _ Who even signs up to take rich people up a mountain if you hate rich people on mountains? _

Their trek is both beautiful, and honestly, kind of boring? There is a lot of walking, yak dodging, and navigating large boulders. But, like, not in a  _ fun _ way. Yeosang has the itch now, the itch for ice and snow and vertical-ness, so the grey and brown of the soil beneath his feet just feels a bit  _ lame _ compared to the blue and white of the frozen mountain. 

The weather is actually pretty comfortable at times, and Jongho takes the opportunity to wear this one short-sleeve T-shirt that makes Yeosang irrationally angry. He has muscles, of course he does, he’s a fucking _ mountain guide _ . He’s stood on top of every continent, some multiple times. His skin is golden, sun-kissed from spending most of his life significantly closer to the sun than most people. His arms just look…  _ secure _ . Which Yeosang guesses is partly why he got the job in the first place. If Yeosang, along with his other clients, can imagine snuggling with him in front of episodes of  _ Patriot Act _ , they can surely imagine him hauling their asses up a mountain. 

He spends most of the hike to base camp thinking about why Jongho is such an asshole to him. Yeosang doesn’t understand marketing, so he guesses it could be some kind of hard-to-get strategy. He likes to think he’s an attractive guy and has a delicate, prince-like charm that could yin-yang nicely with Jongho’s jock persona. So what was this dude’s deal?

Wooyoung, meanwhile, bounces along the dusty path joyfully. He points out phallic-looking rocks, poses for selfies when the yaks stop moving for a minute and chats away with some of the other members of the team.  _ He’s really living it up _ , Yeosang thinks,  _ I’m glad he’s getting to do this. I’m glad I could help him do this.  _

Yeosang keeps to himself towards the front of the group, trying to appear as if he isn’t trying to impress Jongho with his lightning walking pace. He catches Jongho looking back at him a couple of times, but since he was at the front of the group, he could have been looking at anyone in the group. Each time Jongho turns around, Yeosang tries to flash a smile, but Jongho either doesn’t see or pretends not to. 

After a few more hours, he begins to see the colourful flags and numerous yellow tents, and hear the chattering in so many languages his head even starts to hurt, he realises they made it to Base Camp. Wooyoung  _ Naturo _ runs into the center of camp, shaking hands and flashing smiles left and right. Yeosang feels much better about doing this whole hijink, just seeing Wooyoung so happy. 

They arrive, set up in their large tents, rest a while, and meet Jongho in the mess tent for briefing, and the chance to meet the other teams. Yeosang settles next to Wooyoung and across from Jongho, who digs into his stew with abandon.  _ Carrying around all that muscle must be tiring _ , Yeosang’s gay, gay brain once again supplies some useless (and gay) information. 

“Attention everyone! Hello!” Yeosang is drawn out of his Jongho-based reverie by the outburst, and he looks to his left where, at the head of the table, there is a lithe man in a chevron-patterned blue and purple jumpsuit, with oversized ski goggles on his head. He looks like he should be in  _ Chalet Girl _ , not in Everest Base Camp.

“Ahem! Everyone! Your attention please!” He half-shouts again, banging his Hydroflask on the table. The chatter settles down and Yeosang sees Jongo reluctantly look up from the stew he had clearly been having some kind of sexual moment with. 

The guy is obviously from the Korean team, confirmed further with his adorable accent when he speaks. “Let me be the first to welcome you to Everest Base Camp! My name is Hongjoong Kim and I’m the Chief Guide and Executive Strategist for My Way Expeditions. This is my route and meteorological assistant, Seonghwa Park, and my co-guide, Mingi Song.”

The other expedition leaders go around introducing themselves: The Norwegians, the solo Serbian and the Indian border army. Hongjoong explains that teams from the UK, France and New Zealand will be arriving the next day. 

“I’m Jongho. Long Journey Trekking. This is Yunho; meteorology.” Jongho looks like he would rather fall into a crevasse than make eye contact with Hongjoong. 

“.. Right, ok, thank you Jongho. Well, this meeting is incredibly important for the progression of all the missions currently on the mountain, and therefore I will require your utmost attention.” 

Hongjoong explains about the routes the different teams will be using, who will need supplementary Oxygen and who is attempting without ( _ that Serbian dude is crazy _ , Yeosang thinks), and how the glorified buddy system works. 

“You must have absolute, unshakeable trust in your climbing partner. Up there on the Second Step when it's five AM and you’re nearly snowblind and trying to climb a ladder at the cruising altitude of a 737, you’re going to need to be with someone you can trust to not let you fall.” At this, Yeosang glances to Wooyoung, and a thought briefly enters his mind that he can’t quite put to bed.

_ Why did Wooyoung bring him? _

His brain circles around this for some undetermined length of time before he tunes back in when Hongjoong mentions his team name. 

“Long Journey will be taking the extra fixed ropes up to the South Col and fixing those extra lines here, here and here to avoid overcrowding like we saw in 2019. What this means, everyone, is that Long Journey will need to move fast. If you’re in that expedition and this isn’t something you’re comfortable with, see me. Everyone else, including you Miroslav, let them pass you if they need to.” The Serbain solo guy, Miroslav, sighs and rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t challenge Hongjoong. 

Someone does though.

“Who put you in charge of my expedition?” Yeosang’s eyes dash to Jongho, clutching his spoon and staring Hongjoong down with a substantial amount of pissed-off-ed-ness. 

“Look, Jongho. I know you’re all riled up with the departure approaching but I need you to be a little strategic here, okay? We don’t want a team to be split up.”

“Fuck you, man. Don’t tell me how to run my expedition. Who even decided you were qualified for this? You’re a liability.”

There’s a moment of silence when Yeosang swears he could hear even the quietest shift of ice on the mountain.  _ What happened there?  _ Hongjoong’s eyes appear to become glassy, but in a few seconds he blinks that away, takes a deep breath, adjusts his oversized ski goggles, and continues. 

“This is the route my team will use, and in order to avoid overcrowding we’re going to skip camp 2. Please don’t be alarmed and radio for rescue if you don’t see us there. Please remember to give priority to those going up the ropes before you go down, especially up there at the top. And also, remember that the vast majority of accidents happen on the descent, not the ascent. Don’t drop your guard once you’ve got your summit selfie, okay campers?”

Hongjoong collects his map and water bottle and bolts out of the tent. Mingi stands, glares at Jongho in what appears to be the world’s highest-altitude staring contest, and storms out. Jongho just goes back to devouring his stew. 

“Class dismissed.” He mumbles, returning to his eternal state of ignoring the fuck out of them.

Wooyoung and Yeosang get back to their tent and Wooyoung opens the Photos app on his phone to look at the snaps he’d taken so far. Yeosang drifts off into a daydream again, trying to remember everything Hongjoong had told them about how to clip into the ladders, and how to pitch your tent on the ice. Hongjoong seemed calm and had a sense of authority, so maybe that’s why Jongho didn’t like him? A challenge to his leadership of their expedition? But then, he’d said that Hongjoong was a liability? What did that even mean?  _ Huh. _

He also thought about the whole ‘climbing partner’ thing. He and Wooyoung were friends, sure, but Wooyoung and San had been together for _five years!_ San wasn’t inexperienced on mountains either, nor was he unfit. He'd been on the same El Cap hike Yeosang had done!  _ So why did Wooyoung ask Yeosang? _ He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Yeosang excused himself from the tent to go shower, his thinking place, where he could try to logic the shit out of this in peace. On his way there, he passed by another bright yellow tent. He couldn’t help but overhear a hushed conversation in Korean.

“Hyung, you were so cool back there, don’t beat yourself up. That kid is a douchebag.”

“Thanks, Mingi-yah. It’s just.. I’m trying to lead a safe and enjoyable season on the mountain here, and that kid is so.. Mean. H-he didn’t have to men-” Yeosang hears what can only be described as a _squelching_ sound.

“Yag! Song Mingi! Do you know who could walk past and see you right now? We said we’d keep it professional, yeah? You can't just kiss hyung like that!” 

“But hyuuuung! It’s dangerous up here, an-and I don’t want to not be able to show my feelings for you when this could be the last time w- we-”

“Stop, Mingi-yah. Nothing is going to happen to us. We have this conversation every season. Please don’t worry your pretty little head, okay? Hyung knows what he’s doing, and he loves you. Hyung will protect you. Don’t think about things in the past, they’re done now.”

He heard some more sniffling before another, quieter voice, “We can be more open, if that would really make you feel better. We just have to be subtle, okay?” Another pregnant pause before a crashing sound. 

“I love you, hyung! I love you! After what happened….”

Yeosang decides not to intrude any further, making a beeline for the showers.

When he gets there, he sees a mass of tanned muscle heading into one of the stalls.  _ Great _ , Yeosang thinks. _ Is he not even free to shower? Is nothing sacred? _

He jumps in the only other cubicle available, which happens to be right next to the muscle mass. Come on, Yeosang, there are hundreds of people at Base Camp.  _ Why would it possibly be him?  _ Yeosang realised if he kept obsessing over his guide like this, he’d probably never make it to the summit. He had to dedicate absolute focus, absolute, uninterrupted focus. 

He showers and washes his hair, examining the already-forming blisters on his feet. Once he’s done, still in a reverie of thoughts about Hongjoong and Mingi and Jongho an-

  
He exits the shower cubicle and immediately bumps into someone. Someone tan, and muscular.  _ Oh, fuck.  _


	4. Day 1-5, Khumbu Icefall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi climbers!
> 
> Sorry this took a while. I am having a complicated time in isolation and didn't have it in me to write this until now. It's late but it's long, so hopefully, that makes up for it. CW for some descriptions of scary things like crevasses and potentially falling down a mountain, but no one does. 
> 
> btw, the Puja is a totally legit thing and I hope this is somehow educational as well as entertaining! 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to the Icefall Doctors, who go into the most dangerous part of the mountain to fix the ropes and ladders. It's insanely dangerous, and they're badass. 
> 
> See ya'll soon!

Yeosang tried his best not to fall over after hitting the bare chest of Jongho head-on. Jongho’s buff arms came around his waist to steady him as they slipped around on the shower unit floor. Yeosang wished so, so desperately for an avalanche at that moment. A big one, where a piece of ice the size of a house could just crush him. Let him die in peace. 

“Watch where you’re going, princess,” Jongho smirked, though didn’t make any attempts to remove his arms from around Yeosang. “If you can’t even walk around here how the fuck are you going to get up there?”

“Look, man. I don’t know who the fuck you think I am, but I think, as a paying customer, I deserve some more of your respect.” Yeosang desperately tries to maintain a steady tone to his voice amid his anger and not stare at the mountain spring water droplets falling from Jongho’s damp fringe. “And don’t fucking call me that! I’m a grown-ass man who, if I don’t say so myself, has done pretty well on this expedition so far! So whatever crawled up your ass and died, I would appreciate you removing it.”

“Ya gotta earn my respect sweetness.” Jongho challenges. “You can’t just waltz in here - to Base Camp no less - and expect me to fall to my knees before your mountaineering prowess. Sexy hair and a cute birthmark do not an Everest summiter make. So come back and give me that sass again once you’ve actually achieved something worthwhile in climbing.” With that, Jongho finally unwinds himself from Yeosang before stalking back to his tent. 

All Yeosang could think was  _ He likes my birthmark? _

Shortly followed by  _ He is SUCH an asshole! _

Yeosang shrank back to his tent and enjoyed the rest of his chill-out day, surfing Twitter using Base Camp’s handy 4G connection, and napping. 

__

The next day, they wake up early since they’ve been told that they are to participate in the Puja. Yunho had explained over dinner the previous day that this is a traditional and widely seen as an essential part of any Everest climb. Yeosang was down for any mountain activities that didn’t involve explicit peril, so he was keen to get in on it.

_ The Puja is a ceremony to ask the mountain god Sagmartha for safe passage along Everest _ , he had said. All the expeditions gathered around the center of camp, where a large pole stood, flags in red, blue, yellow, white and green strung from all areas of the camp to meet at the pole. Yeosang and Wooyoung watched as a monk blessed the camping gear they were going to use, and drank some shots of rather pungent Nepalsese rum. Then, the monk went around and spread flour on their faces. 

_ Great _ , Yeosang thought,  _ as if I haven’t looked dumb enough in front of Jongho already.  _

He accepted his floury blessing with enthusiasm and hoped he didn’t look too much like the world’s worst baker. He glanced at Wooyoung as he got floured up, and Wooyoung grinned at him, snapping a selfie of them both.  _ Any help we can get with making it _ , he had said.

From there, Wooyoung started chatting to one of the middle-aged people from their expedition and Yeosang looked around. He saw Hongjoong and Mingi grinning at each other like idiots, with flour on their faces, also like idiots. He also saw Yunho, not with Jongho as he’d expected, but with another man who Yeosang vaguely remembered as one of Hongjoong’s team. They were chatting quietly, waiting for the great flouring. 

Then he found Jongho. Off to the side, alone. He had also received the flour and looked like some kind of adorable field mouse who’d been sneaking into the bakery to steal fresh rolls. Yeosang didn’t want to smile at him; that asshole didn’t deserve Yeosang’s kindness after the shit he’d pulled so far, accomplished mountain guide or no accomplished mountain guide. Jongho debated going up to him, trying to smooth out the shower incident from earlier. Jongho HAD commented positively towards his hair, which means he didn’t totally hate him, right? But, surely someone who works in probably the most high-pressure iteration of the service industry would have a little better, y’know, service?

As it turned out, it didn’t matter. Jongho didn’t look his way, and he found himself alone as everyone chattered around him. 

He thought again about Wooyoung, so happy to finally be doing this. He was dancing with some of the Sherpa guides to their drum music, drinking more of that questionable rum and grinning. Yeosang figured even with his enumerable and apparent flaws, he could count this whole shenanigan towards his  _ Being a Good Friend _ plus-point. 

They spent three hours total at the ceremony, drinking, eating and listening to music played by local monks and Sherpa. The whole thing made Yeosang feel a little less guilty for being a rich entitled tourist coming to desecrate the local people’s holiest site.

___

After another half-rest half-climbing technique class day, they were ready to actually start.

Yeosang clips his crampons onto his boots and stares at the challenge ahead. The Khumbu Icefall stands before him. The most dangerous part of the climb. And it’s first. 

They depart from Base Camp at 5 am. Jongho instructs them that this is because if they were to depart any later, they risked being on the icefall, a frozen waterfall, at the part of the day when it is most likely to melt and be even more dangerous than it normally is. Yeosang isn’t quite sure how a place with crevasses larger than his apartment floor plan can get any more dangerous, but he figures he might as well stop questioning shit now, rather than later.

Jongho instructs them to move as quickly as they individually can, and not pace with other members of the expedition. Jongho had explained that the ice moves 6 feet per day, so they really don’t want to wait around unnecessarily. Yeosang finds himself at the front of the client group, a little behind Jongho and Yunho who set a frankly startling pace. Yeosang thinks he’s doing fine, is actually enjoying the beautiful views of water seemingly frozen in mid-flow, and the teetering seracs, standing like pillars of whipped cream. This all stops, however, when he gets to his first ladder.

Jongho, for some unknown reason, likely his client satisfaction ratings, has waited for him at the beginning of the crevasse. It stretches about four meters across and the only way to cross is along a bridge made of two ladders. Tied together with rope.  _ Oh god.  _

“Listen, sweetness, make sure your crampons grip onto the ladder properly. Clip yourself into every single rope you come across. Don’t look down.” he instructs, before making light work of the gap himself, not, like, waiting for Yeosang to go first or anything.

He clips himself into the crevasse rope and locks his crampon spikes into the holes on the ladder. Yeosang can’t help but stare at Jongho on the other side as he shuffles across, fearing that if he looks down he will literally be consumed by the mountain. Every step feels like it takes a thousand years. He absolutely cannot let himself look down. If he does, Yeosang 100% knows he will turn around and walk, completely alone, off this godforsaken mountain. He focuses on the small patch of ladder illuminated by his headtorch. He feels like he is inside the mountain, hearing the creaks of moving ice constantly. It’s as if the icefall is alive, a sleeping dragon he must ensure not to awaken lest he be swallowed up. A gust of winds shakes his confidence when he’s about halfway across the crevasse, and for a second he freezes, worries this could be all over. He’d come all this way just to fall into a big, icy hole. He’s gonna die in a big, icy hole.

He stands completely still as the wind batters him for around a minute. After what feels like a lifetime, the wind stops and he makes it to the other side. He doesn’t see the flash of approval, appreciation or even arousal that he was lowkey hoping for in Jongho’s eyes. Even using his head-torch.

He finally, finally clips himself into the next fixed line and tries so desperately hard not to think about doing this every single time he crosses the icefall. Instead, he looks ahead to the next patch of glacier, and the mountain guide on it, before he has to deal with another godforsaken ladder. The snowsuit Jongho wears does absolutely nothing for his figure, Yeosang thinks as a distraction from the whole  _ big, icy hole _ thing. He looks like a human made of hotdogs, or something. Yeosang suddenly isn’t good with metaphors. He wonders if that’s the altitude or just the fear of sudden, icy death. Or the use of  _ Jongho _ and  _ hotdog _ in the same sentence.

He navigates another 30 ladders, across, up and down, digging his spikes in as he tries to keep his balance despite his heavy backpack and more sounds of shifting ice threatening to knock him off.

They take 5 hours to reach Camp 1. When Yeosang finally arrives, he sits down and stares at what he’d just completed. He could see the bright blue snowsuit belonging to Wooyoung, maybe half an hour behind him. He was currently looking a little wobbly as he moved across a crevasse spanning five ladders. That one hadn’t been kind to Yeosang either. 

As he continued to watch people from their team, and the other teams on the mountain, snake along the winding path set out by the icefall doctors, he felt a presence next to him. 

“Not bad, Kang.” Jongho muttered, removing his crampons. 

“Uh.. thanks?” Yeosang attempted, taking the hint and also removing his own crampons.

“You really look like you’re going to be shit at this, you know.” 

“Sorry, is that meant to be incredibly insulting or is this all a big bit?” Yeosang doesn’t really know how to respond to Jongho’s latest nugget of utter bullshit. 

“Look, man, I’m the pro here. I know what a pillow princess climbing client looks like.”

“You’d be fucking lucky to ever be able to refer to me as a pillow princess you pompous asshole.” Yeosang removes his crampons in the bitchiest way he can, and storms off to the mess tent.

When the whole team made it to Camp 1 and ate a warm soup for lunch, they decided to continue up to Camp 2 to make the best possible time. Once they arrive they settle into their pre-constructed tent. When he realises that Apa and Pemba had climbed the Icefall twice as fast as the rest of them to run ahead and set up tents, Yeosang can’t help but remember Jongho’s  _ pillow princess _ quip.

“That was crazy, man.” Wooyoung says as they lay down shoulder-to-shoulder. He says it in a way that implies he wants to do it again, multiple times. 

“Please never ever make me do that again. I swear I looked death in the balls.” Yeosang sighs, pulling Wooyoung into a bone-crushing hug and stroking his hair like he’s some kind of pet.

“Is that a phrase?” Wooyoung questions, but he returns Yeosang’s hug all the same.

Wooyoung calls San, recalling his earlier heroism (Yeosang can’t help but roll his eyes) and making many, many kissy faces. 

“I miss you, Youngie.” San pouts (Yeosang can hear the pout in his voice). 

“I know, baby. I miss you too. I can’t wait to have you back in my arms and comforting me after my long, arduous journey.” 

“Wait, was this whole trip a plot to get me to pamper you? Because I would have done that if you’d asked, baby. And more!” San coos, and Yeosang suddenly feels like he’s going to throw up, and  _ not _ from acute mountain sickness. 

“Not at all, my Sannie-boy. You know what we talked about; this trip was to get Yeo-” Wooyoung stops himself as Yeosang’s head flips around to look at his friend. 

“Uh, babe I gotta go, we’re going to talk about winds, and ice and stuff bye love you always!” Wooyoung stutters and promptly leaves the tent, and also leaves Yeosang very, very confused.

He too leaves the tent not long after, and runs into that pretentious dude (Hongjoong? Was it Hongjoong?) and Mingi from Base Camp.

“I see you managed to clamber up the icefall despite your apparent inexperience. I’m mildly impressed” Hongjoong says, and beside him, Mingi giggles like that was remotely funny. 

“Uh, thanks, man. I guess.” Yeosang then glances down and sees Hongjoong and Mingi’s clasped hands. “Are you guys, like, y’know…?” Pretending he hadn’t heard them play high-altitude tonsil tennis the day before.

“Partners in love, life and summits? Yes. You got a problem?” Hongjoong almost spits, and Mingi steps closer to his side, grasping at his blue and purple jumpsuit to hold his tiny body back. “Because if you do I will not hesitate to push your ass over the 1000m drop back there, okay punk?”

“What? No, not at all, why would I give a shit?” Yeosang tries to pedal back, realising he probably shouldn’t go making enemies of one of the most experienced guides on the mountain. “But is it, like, safe? To be out here, in danger, with someone you love?”

“You’re here with Wooyoung, aren’t you?” Mingi offers, rubbing Hongjoong’s back as he slowly calms down.

“Well, yeah. But he isn’t, like, my lover, or anything” Yeosang attempts to clarify what he had not previously even realised was a thing. 

“Oh, he isn't?” Mingi questioned. 

“What? No. Why does everyone think that?”  _ Does Jongho think that? _ the gay, gay brain contributed.

“Loads of people climb with their life partner. You need a climbing partner you can trust beyond anything, and for a lot of people, the only person they have that kind of relationship with is their significant other.” Mingi says, and Hongjoong kisses his cheek. 

“You’re here with Wooyoung, we put 2 and 2 together.” Hongjoong offers.

This makes Yeosang think back to Wooyoung, and the weird moment with the phone call. What was Wooyoung going to say? Yeosang suddenly feels this gap between them, like one of the crevasses he just crossed. How deep did it go? How wide would it become? Was he gonna need a ladder to cross it one day? 

Yeosang hoped not. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, Puja is Sanskrit for "worship"!
> 
> stay spicy!


	5. Day 6-10, Camp II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cwm itself was one of the weirdest places Yeosang had ever been. It was mostly flat, blindingly white and pretty much totally silent. Bordered on three sides by three (truly terrifying) mountain summits, it felt like that save point of a boss level you always respawn to once you die (immediately after thinking this Yeosang tried to think of literally anything else in order to not dwell on the possibilities of death and not respawning).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been so long in the making!! I am doing mostly better now and should be able to update more regularly from now on!
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my friend Jamie who sadly died today from cancer. I know she would have approved of these hijinks. 
> 
> Thanks, everyone.

Camp 2 sits at 6,400m, surrounded by not only the towering summit of Mount Everest itself but also several other nearby summits, including Lhotse and Nuptse, making Yeosang feel like he is biting at the ankles of the gods. 

On the way up to the camp, the team had traversed this area called the Western Cwm (Yeosang abandoned any remaining faith he had in the validity of the English language after finding out that word is pronounced “coom”). From the Cwm, Yeosang had his first unadulterated view of the summit they’d be attempting. Obviously, at this point, he was painfully aware that Mt Everest is tall, but when he turned around and looked down the mountain, he realised they’d already come so far and there was still so, so much more to go. 

The cwm itself was one of the weirdest places Yeosang had ever been. It was mostly flat, blindingly white and pretty much totally silent. Bordered on three sides by three (truly terrifying) mountain summits, it felt like that save point of a boss level you always respawn to once you die (immediately after thinking this Yeosang tried to think of literally anything else in order to not dwell on the possibilities of death and  _ not _ respawning). The weirdest part, though, was the fact that it got really hot. Like, one minute it’d be cold like you would assume a mountain would be, but the next it’d be like 90 degrees, warmer than even Chicago during a summer heatwave. Yeosang had not experienced such ridiculous temperature extremes in his entire life, and he wasn’t going to lie, as beautiful as this place was, the constant re-dressing they had to do had a certain dampening effect on his awe. 

Not immune to these ups and downs despite his much-lauded mountaineering prowess, Jongho was also constantly stripping and re-layering. At one point, when the temperature must have been the highest all day, Yeosang could only watch as Jongho stopped, removed his pack and his goggles, and his down jacket, and his thermal fleece, and his overshirt, and his second overshirt. 

Just left in a tank top and frantically stuffing the extra layers into his pack, Jongho practically glistened in the heat of the valley. Yeosang had to physically restrain himself from swooning. A dangerous thought entered his mind: Jongho would get even more tan under the snow-amplified sun of the cwm. 

Yeosang found himself succumbing to the heat not much later, stripping down to his rather tight thermal undershirt. As he packed the fleece and down jacket back into his pack, he stood up to stretch his back and found Jongho looking back at the group from his position far ahead. Yeosang, thinking there had been some kind of issue with the slower climbers behind him, turned around too. But there wasn’t even anyone else visible behind a patch of mist and ice particulates about 200 metres behind him. It was just the two of them for a good distance around on all sides. 

_ Huh _ . 

.

The team were planning to rest at Camp 2 for a few days, acclimating to the insane altitude and gobbling down the last hot meals before their diet of instant food would begin. Yeosang really liked the tranquillity of this place and found himself enjoying the short day-climbs the most of any on the trip so far. These climbs were done in small groups, so they could spread out and see sights they were keen on. A couple of members of their group peeled off to attempt the summit of Lhotse, but Yeosang wasn’t keen. Wooyoung had made a face when Yeosang had declined Yunho’s offer but hadn’t commented further. Yeosang assumed he’d want to tick as many boxes off during this experience as possible, but Yeosang just wanted to focus on the task at hand. 

On the second day at Camp 2, Jongho gathered the expedition members and paired them off for some additional training.

“When you’re dealing with ladders just below the summit at 4 am in complete darkness, you’re going to need someone you can trust to make sure you’re clipped in right.” Jongho had explained to the team while applying sunscreen to his (cute) nose. He spoke to each pair in turn, explaining why he chose to team some people up, especially some of those who had joined the expedition on their own.

“Molly, your terrific speed is matched only by your piss-poor footing, so stick with Paul since he has more experience on alpine climbs and will make sure you don’t stick your foot in it, literally.” Jongho looked happy with himself for being able to be funny again.  _ Ugh. _

He worked his way through all the couples, and Yeosang found himself hoping, secretly, that he might end up with Jongho. He did love Wooyoung and everything, but Jongho was fast like him and Wooyoug seemed to have more trouble with the altitude and was usually a little slower. Yeosang was keenly aware of the dangers of moving too slowly in the Death Zone, so his practical mindedness was hoping Jongho had noticed this and would consider it in their pairing.

“And finally, we obviously have the two twinks together.” Jongho removed his goggles, winked at Yeosang and then pulled his goggles back down.  _ UGH _ !

“Care to explain your overblown pompous “I’m a mountaineer” reasoning, asshole? Since you think you’re the best thing to happen to climbing since Ueli Steck.” Yeosang bit back.

“Hey, man, what the hell? Do you not wanna be with me? He obviously just knows we’re friends!” Wooyoung says, “Sorry about him, Jongho.” he placates, grinning at the guide.

“Sorry ab- are you fucking kidding me?” Yeosang whispered under his breath.  _ Why was Wooyoung snaking him like this?  _

“I’m actually very confused as to what you’re mad about. We obviously would want to be partners, since we came here to do this together. Why are you getting upset?” Wooyoung’s voice became raised.

“Because of how he talks to us! Plus, he has this inflated sense of self-importance that will end up putting us all in danger!”

“It’s just banter, Yeosang. He obviously knows what he’s doing and is making the best decisions for the team. You  _ aren’t _ a mountain guide, why are you trying to tell him what to do? Stop trying to control him! Calm down.”

“Okay, fuck you. Don’t tell me to calm down! This dude has been an asshole to me since day one! Do you not care about how he makes me feel?!”

“Just don’t let it affect you like this! You’re in control of your emotions, don’t make it a big deal! You aren’t here to have him make you feel all fuzzy inside, you’re here to climb a fucking mountain”

“What the actual fuck Wooyoung. Don’t ever fucking say that to me, you’re such an insensitive dickhead. Why did you even bring me here if you were going to ignore my feelings the whole fucking time?”

“Uh, guys, maybe we should deal with this later, after the climb?” Jongho, for once, didn’t seem arrogant, rather genuinely concerned. His forehead, above the goggles, had clear lines etched into it.

“Shut the  _ fuck up _ !” Wooyoung and Yeosang shouted, for the first time in this conversation actually thinking the same thing.

“You can’t just let things go and act like a normal person, can you? You’re always so uptight, so neurotic. It’s tiring even being around you! You never want to do fun stuff because it’s ‘risky’, not even going to Lollapalooza! You literally were scared of going to Lollapalooza! I was getting so sick of it! I asked you to come here to get you to loosen the fuck up!” 

_ Wow _ . If Yeosang had thought it was silent before, that had nothing on that moment. All he could hear was the crunch of snow under other campers’ feet, and the beating of his heart in his ears.

_ What the fuck? _

It’s pretty difficult to make a dramatic exit on Mount Everest. The likes of Camp 2 are pretty steep, and so you need to wear crampons and thick boots basically constantly. Therefore, what Yeosang hopes will be a ‘rageful storming off’ turns into more a ‘stroppy stomp/stumble in a vague direction’. He makes it back to his tent, his and Wooyoung’s tent, and bursts into tears. Partly from the things Wooyoung has just said to him, about being uptight, neurotic, tiring to be around, but partly also from the shock of everything. Wooyoung had always been kind to him; they were, at least Yeosang thought they were, best friends. 

Sure, they hadn’t always seen eye to eye when making plans, but aside from an eye roll, Wooyoung had never raised much resistance. Yeosang was under the impression he could be himself around Wooyoung; he didn’t have to pretend. But now he was reassessing all of his interactions over the last months, years, and trying to work out where he went wrong. 

“Knock knock,” someone says, instead of actually knocking since, y’know, it’s a tent. “It’s me, Jongho. The guy you just told to shut the fuck up.”

“What do  _ you _ want?” Yeosang really, really wished that didn’t come out as much like a sob as it did.

“Just wanted to see if you’re okay. I’m sorry that all happened.” Jongho, to his credit, did sound a little concerned.

“Why don’t you check on Wooyoung, since you guys suddenly seem to be the best of friends!” Yeosang knew this was childish, but hey, he felt like he’d earned it.

“What? No. Not at all. Look, can I come in?”

“Why do you even care?”

“Do you want my honest answer or my official, on-record answer?”

Yeosang didn’t feel like hearing the official company policy about  _ the welfare of clients during interpersonal difficulties _ . But he also didn’t really want to hear Jongho tell him the honest answer, which was no doubt the fact that Yeosang needed to man the fuck up. 6,400 metres into the air was no place for a temper tantrum. 

“I don’t want you to feel alone up here, Yeosang.” Jongho says, clearly abandoning the previous train of questioning.

“Well the person who I thought was my best friend has completely betrayed me and brought me to the most dangerous place in the world to do it.” he spat out, picking at his down suit. 

“Well technically Mount Everest isn’t the most dangerous mountain in the world, that’s Annapurna.”

Yeosang let out what this author can only describe as a  _ shriek _ . 

“Ok, ok, sorry. Can I come in?”

Yeosang’s lack of response was clearly interpreted as tacit agreement and he heard Jongho unzip the tent and squeeze in next to him. Their large jackets, now necessary in the cold winds above the cwm, brustled together.

“I don’t think we can come back from this.” Yeosang whispered. “I’m not sure I even know who he is anymore.”

Jongho sighed and patted Yeosang’s leg. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to continue, Yeosang. I can arrange with the company to at least get you a partial refund. I’m worried that if you continue you’ll be in too poor an emotional state to be able to make it up there.”

“Are you kidding me?” Yeosang pulls away from Jonghp’s attempts at comfort to meet him with determined eyes, “I’ve come this far. Would it not be the biggest ‘fuck you’ ever to just summit the fucking thing to prove that I’m not the neurotic weakling he keeps saying I am?”

“Well, yes it absolutely would be. But are you doing this for him or for yourself in that case?” Jongho’s voice didn’t escalate the way Yeosang expected it to. He wasn’t in this for the debate, that much was becoming clear.

“Can I not do both? Sure, I started this because of him, but I want to finish it for me. I owe it to myself to continue, to show him I’m not all those things but also to show myself.” The feeling of brimming tears in Yeosang’s eyes became a little painful due to the cold. 

“You.. you don’t already know that you aren’t those things?”

“Huh?”

“Yeosang, I haven't known you that long, and admittedly most of it has been under this extremely high-pressure situation, under which things were said, but I know with absolute certainty that you are not tiring to be around.”

“I can't be partners with him anymore. There’s absolutely no trust there.” Yeosang didn’t feel like being comforted emptily by Jongho, so he moved on.

“I put you with Wooyoung because I thought you had better trust in him, but I knew you were a little fast for his average pace. But you can partner with me. You’re fast, and you have a good eye for ice axe placement.”

“Are you sure? You literally called me a  _ twink _ half an hour ago.”

“What? A guy can’t flirt up here among the clouds, where angels like yourself surely belong? Silly of you to think I use the word twink with any ounce of disapproval.”

“If that’s what you think flirting is, I think you need to learn a few things.” Yeosang couldn’t help but crack a smile at the pure cheese on display, making him forget about the W-word for a while. 

“Oh, baby, you offering to teach me?” Jongho winked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I PROMISE I like Wooyoung a lot, it's just character development, y'know! Don't hate me! 
> 
> Reminder you can send your hate mail to me directly on twt: @_monsta_eggs
> 
> Stay safe, healthy and most importantly, spicy, ya'll!


	6. Day 11-13, Camp III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he watched Jongho maneuver the jumar into place, Yeosang’s dumb pseudo-poetic mind came up with this weird metaphor in which the jumar, tasked with protecting him (Wooyoung) was now in the hands of someone new (Jongho), who had the power to control the jumar, no matter how powerful the jumar is alone. Wow, he really should have listened to his first-year Humanities professor who told him to abandon Creative Writing for the sake of humankind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi climbers! Here we are again!! 
> 
> PLEASE NOTE there is some minor (extremely minor) character death going on here, because I want to get across just how dangerous this shit really is.
> 
> ALSO sorry for the stylistic shift from 'Camp 3' to 'Camp III' I just thought the latter is more legit and mountain climber-y. 
> 
> The plan (not that anyone even remotely asked ha ha ha) is to get to Camp IV and then down again, then up for the summit, so the next chapter will probably have a lot of climbing described in not much, but I know ya'll are here for the Jongsang not the climbing lol.
> 
> Stay safe and spicy!

Camp III is a small ledge on the Lhotse rock face at 7,470 m. In fact, there is not one singular Camp III but several Camp III’s, purely based on where is flat and stable enough to even consider making a camp. At 7,470 metres high, ‘flat’ means ‘only’ a 30-degree incline. How Yeosang is going to be able to sleep on a pure diagonal is beyond him, let alone how he’s gonna pee.

  
  


He and Wooyoung had been mostly separated since the shitshow at Camp II. Wooyoung had been sticking with Apa, far behind Yeosang and Jongho in terms of pace. 

The route up to Camp III takes on the Lhotse Face, a long and steep ice wall. Some parts were up to 80 degrees inclined, meaning a pretty much vertical climb up a giant ice cube, with avalanches that could whack you on the head and send you packing. The team were to use jumars, special clips that only move in the intended direction of movement (ie: up) and allow puny humans to haul their asses up those, particularly vertical sections. These tools were quite a lot for Yeosang to get used to. He didn’t quite trust the tiny metal device to not suddenly drop him, and he wondered if Wooyoung had given him trust issues already. As he watched Jongho maneuver the jumar into place, Yeosang’s dumb pseudo-poetic mind came up with this weird metaphor in which the jumar, tasked with protecting him (Wooyoung) was now in the hands of someone new (Jongho), who had the power to control the jumar, no matter how powerful the jumar is alone.  _ Wow, he really should have listened to his first-year Humanities professor who told him to abandon Creative Writing for the sake of humankind.  _

The team had a snow-free push for their first Face ascent, which Jongho explained meant a lower risk of avalanche but a more difficult time getting their crampons into the ice. The shiny blue of the face ahead of them was incredibly intimidating to Yeosang, who glanced down at his crampons and gulped. 

“It isn’t uncommon for people to fall here. It’s steep, there isn’t much oxygen, and there are always lines.” Jongho had explained at Camp II the previous day. Yeosang endorsed ‘honesty is the best policy’ but he wondered if just a little sugar-coating wouldn’t have helped in that one instance, just a little bit…

The climb started out well. The ice was tough but his crampons held out, and he appreciated the lack of snow getting in his way. He managed to set up a good rhythm, digging his axe in, moving the jumar up, and pushing with his legs. While he inched his way up what looked like a frozen wall of Listerine, he tried not to let his jelly legs or oxygen-deprived brain make any fuckups. There were a couple of moments where he sort of forgot where he was. In one, he had convinced himself he was standing at a water cooler in the office and this was all an elaborate daydream. But he was broken out of his reverie by a piercing scream.

Shit.

He watched as a flash of orange whipped past him, down the mountain. 

Someone had _fallen_.

The screaming climber continued barreling down the ice until they were out of sight, and then the screaming stopped. The silence in the seconds after was deafening. There was really nothing anyone on Yeosang’s rope could do. Unclipping to try and seek help was suicide. Ahead of him, Yeosang heard Jongho radio down to Camp II to alert them, and he got a report back that it was a member of the Norwegian team, who slipped while transferring from one rope to the other.

Reality hit Yeosang like a freight train. This wasn’t some coffee break daydream. This was real life, _real danger_. That could so,  _ so _ easily have been him. 

Or Wooyoung.

Or Jongho.

Well, Yeosang guesses it was less likely to be Jongho since he had probably transferred from one rope to another thousands of times. But the lack of oxygen could totally get him, couldn’t it? He was only human, after all. The weight of what they were doing settled, and it was heavy. 

“Yeosang, are you okay?” Jongho shouted from his position above Yeosang, already clipped into another line. “Talk to me, Yeosang.”

Shit. They were coming to the end of the rope. Yeosang didn’t want to have to transfer, paralysed by the fear of death and the fear of  _ failure _ .

“You have to, Yeosang. I don’t mean to be dramatic here, but you literally have no choice.” Jongho placated, seemingly having read Yeosang’s mind, “Look behind you.”

Glancing down, Yeosang saw probably 45 people waiting below him to also transfer to the next rope. This shit was a single-file affair, and Yeosang was holding up the line. 

He was putting them in danger. 

“Yeosang, you can do it. Breathe deeply. Get as many O’s as you can.” Jongho advised.

Slowly, he approached the new rope. He clipped his first carabiner in; the safety clip. Then, he transferred the jumar as Jongho had shown him. His legs were shaking like poorly-made Jello. He screwed his eyes shut as he screwed in the jumar, trying not to think about how it would feel to slip down the icy face of Lhotse and into the abyss.

“Yeosang, move.” he heard and blinked open his eyes, blinded by the sunlight reflecting off the ice. He realised he was fully clipped. _Safe, for now._

“Come on, we gotta keep moving.” Jongho put on his instructor's voice and they continued to clamber up, albeit more sluggishly than before. 

. 

Upon arrival at Camp III,  Yeosang and Jongho hammered their tent into the ice and clipped themselves into the internal ropes.  Jongho sat in the tent as Jongho worked on sharpening his own icepicks, and then on Yeosang’s. His brow furrowed in concentration as he dragged the knife over the spikes again and again. Yeosang busied himself by checking his blood oxygen levels and drinking water, but couldn’t occupy himself for the entire time Jongho worked.

“Thanks, by the way, for the other day.” he attempted and immediately cringed at that shitty attempt at human communication.

Looking up, Jongho gave a small smile, putting down the sharp objects. His eyes, previously sharp with focus, seemed to melt like the snow around their tent. 

“I don’t want you to lose focus up here, Yeosang. It could be dangerous.”

“Yeah, well, I appreciate it all the same. You didn’t have to. We shouldn’t be bringing our personal shit up here.” Hoping to find something to do to escape this interaction and all it entailed, Yeosang pulled out his water bottle and had a drink. 

“You’re not the one who duped his best friend into climbing Mt fucking Everest.” 

“No, I’m not. But I’m the one who was boring enough to bring him to that point.” Yeosang sighed.

“Shut the fuck up, Yeosang. You are many things, you’re a constellation of things. You’re like one of those zodiac maps where every star is a  _ thing _ , but boring isn’t one of them. Don’t tell yourself that shit.” Looking up, the pair locked eyes. The only sound was that of an avalanche a few hundred metres down the mountain. Jongho’s brown eyes held Yeosang’s with a seemingly gravitational pull. Neither could look away. 

It was just like on the Khumbu Icefall when Jongho stared at him crossing the crevasse; just like in the Valley of Silence when Yeosang watched Jongho strip off his heavy clothes; like when he had helped Yeosang clip into the rope. That magnetic pull that held them together, together with this mountain.

A thought occurred to Yeosang in that moment: what the fuck was even happening? Like, what the fuck? Why was he having a moment with the formerly-douchey (still-douchey?) mountain guide while being really high in the air.  _ Possibly high on something else too, _ Yeosang’s gay brain, undeterred by the relative lack of oxygen at his present altitude, adds.

Looking at the man in front of him made Yeosang think again about this whole weird thing. He hadn’t been so close to another human for this long in a damn while, and that human had been-

Wooyoung.

Was he doing ok? Was he getting enough oxygen? Had he used the sat phone to call San recently? Had he seen the Norwegian fall too? Yeosang was suddenly struck with a concern for his (ex?) best friend, Jongho’s gaze softening his insides. San. Shit, how was San? Yeosang was aware they’d never been exactly close, him being attached to Wooyoung and all, but he must be worried sick, getting the daily reports from Yunho, possibly with no idea about what had happened. A cold sadness overtook Yeosang’s mind. Would San hate him? Did he already?

Yeosang wished for someone to stick by him like San did to Wooyoung. He wanted a companion, a sounding board, someone to be there. Sure, he had people around him at this particular moment in time, but as soon as they took a step off the mountain national park (if they were lucky enough to make it that far) they’d disappear like the snow melting on the Khumbu glacier. He’d be all alone again. 

Which made him think back to the man he was presently staring at. Jongho would definitely just run off as soon as his legally mandated duty of care expired. He was probably happy for the mountainside flirting to pass the time better. He didn’t actually give a shit about Yeosang, or his issue with Wooyoung. That just made Yeosang feel even lonelier. Even in the tent with approximately 2 people per square metre, he was entirely alone. 

“Do you-” Yeosang caught himself about to admit something he absolutely shouldn't. He blamed the reduced oxygen and his wandering mind. 

“What? What were you gonna say?’

“Nothing, look, I gotta go-” Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. This is what he gets for opening his big fucking mouth. Jesus Fucking Christ. Yeosang considered sliding down the mountain on his ass Right Now to escape this fucking conversation. 

“You can’t Yeosang, you’re clipped in.” Jongho’s eyes were narrowed, but not with annoyance, with something else that Yeosang couldn’t pin down. 

The thing about Camp III is that you have to spend all moments, including when asleep, literally clipped into the mountain so you don’t roll off. Remembering this, Yeosang tried not to let tears prick at his eyes.  _ Jesus fucking Christ. Could he ever catch a break?  _ He again considered the ass mode of transport back down. Maybe he could work in a nice teahouse somewhere along the Base Camp trek route. 

Yeosang sighed and decided with some measure of self-preservation instinct that he should not attempt to go out to clear his head on the 30-degree incline of Camp III. Instead, he lay down and ignored Jongho’s attempts to initiate conversation. When it came time to sleep not long later,  Yeosang tried not to think about how much of a thing that was. Fortunately (or unfortunately?) their thick snowsuits and gloves meant they couldn’t actually make any sort of bodily contact.  _ So much for huddling for warmth _ , the gay brain quipped. 

Yeosang couldn’t help but be disappointed by this turn of events. No one had hugged him since the fight with Wooyoung. The closest he’d got was a leg pat from Jongho back at Camp II, and with Wooyoung being the biggest hugger he’d ever met, plus the near-death experiences he was getting approximately every 35 minutes, he missed good old human contact. However, he would never ever tell Jongho that. He was determined to not let it show how much his fight with Wooyoung had affected him. He wanted to climb this fucking mountain, for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all your kind comments and kudoses! 
> 
> Stay spicy!


	7. Day 14-19: Rest at Base Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wooyoung?” Yeosang’s shock momentarily overtook his discomfort at talk of Wooyoung. Dammit, his plan had been to change the subject to a better one, not an infinitely worse one. 
> 
> “Yeah, him. Why the long, scared face?” Mingi asked. “Did MinkyHong miss something?”
> 
> “We,” Yeosang sighs, “kinda had a fight up at Camp II.”
> 
> “Oh, tea!” Mingi shouted, making sure that everyone who wasn’t awoken by his previous exclamation was now definitely awake. “Spicy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi climbers!! 
> 
> Sorry, this took longer than anyone anticipated or wanted. I got all bogged down in the idiocy of my nation's current government, but I emerged on the other side with some mountain fun! 
> 
> I also recently found out that there are in fact expeditions on Mt Everest this year, but just a very small number of Chinese climbers on the Tibet side, so there's your fun fact for today! The rope-fixing team is actually due to summit today (May 12)! They should have by now, but I haven't found any updates on their progress yet. This chapter goes to them! 
> 
> Also, fun fact number 2, an Everest blogger who I really love and whose blog has provided useful information for writing Summit Fever, is in fact writing a fictional Everest climbing story on his blog! His chapter for today is literally called "Summit Fever at Base Camp" - fate? I think yes. 
> 
> As a reminder, I have a [Twitter](https://twitter.com/_monsta_eggs) and a [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/inbox)!!
> 
> Thanks for all your lovely comments and stay spicy!

The team moved back down from Camp III to Base Camp, rounding off their acclimatization, and got some rest before the summit push. At this point, Jongho had said, the only thing stopping them was the weather.

There is a window of usually around ten days in late May which is the only time in the entire year when it is safe to climb Mt Everest. While it is technically possible to climb Everest during the winter season, around October, the first time this was done was as recently as 1980, and since 1993 no winter expeditions have been successful at all. So, to all intents and purposes, it’s impossible to climb Everest during the winter. 

In order to have a safe attempt on the top of the world during the spring season (the less scary, but still moderately scary, one), climbers need 4-5 days of consistent and Jet Stream-free conditions. The mountain is so huge that it creates its own mini climate zone, so close, specific monitoring is invaluable to ensuring the safety of summit attempts. Trying to climb to the Summit while the Jet Stream is close by will batter you with winds of 100 miles an hour that sound louder than a jet engine ( _ is that why it’s called the Jet Stream? _ , Yeosang wondered.) 

“When the monsoon moves into the Bay of Bengal, the Jet Stream will be pushed away, and so we go then.” Yunho had previously explained, swiping on an iPad that could just as likely have been opened to Tinder.

They were back and resting at Base Camp, but it didn’t feel much like rest to Yeosang. His legs were still but his mind raced on. Having not spoken to Wooyoung since their blowout fight at Camp II, the solitary nature of climbing, his switch of partner came in handy for his avoidance agenda. 

Yeosang had woken early, clambered out of the tent careful not to wake a cutely-snoring Jongho, scrunching and unscrunching his nose like a little baby bear. Deciding to wander around camp, Yeosang tried to work out what the fuck he should do. Should he call San? What would that even accomplish?  _ I don’t know, man, can a guy not riff here?  _

Caught up in his mental debate, he didn’t realize Hongjoong was waving at him from where he and Mingi were checking the valves on some oxygen canisters. 

“Hey, Yeosang! We’re over here!” Mingi boomed as if Yeosang could not see them perfectly, and probably waking up half of Base Camp in the process. Hongjoong lightly hit him with a headlamp and Mingi pouted like a middle-schooler caught eating glue. Yeosang knew, now he had been detected by the loud couple, he had no option but to go and indulge Mingi (and his pout). 

With a deep breath and a vow to be fucking normal for once, he made his way over.

“Hey man! Good to see you’re still truckin’. How’s your progress?” Hongjoong asked, zipping up his lime green and mauve windbreaker. Yeosang tried not to be scared at the jovial way Hongjoong praises Yeosang’s major achievement of  _ not being dead yet.  _

“It’s, y’know, it’s a lot, to be honest.” Yeosang took a seat next to Mingi and watched as gas rushed out of the pipe as Mingi momentarily unscrewed the valve.

“Oh yeah, he can be a lot, huh? He’s cute though.” Mingi grinned, and Yeosang had thought that weird heterosexuals always said  _ she _ for mountain _ like they do for boats. Also, since when was the mountain cute? _

Yeosang clearly made a confused face and had actually forgotten to respond, so Mingi attempted a second time.

“Oh, he meant how are you finding your time with our little Jonggie?”

Yeosang’s eyes widened in sudden fear.  _ Was he meant to be taking notes? Was there a performance review going on? How can mountain guides even have Key Performance Indicators?  _

“Oh, I thought you meant, like, how’s my progress climbing the mountain we are all currently on,” Yeosang mumbled, hoping to dodge the whole topic entirely in favor of  _ literally anything else _ , but his discomfort is either missed, or ignored, by Hongjoong. 

“Oh, that, yeah. Sorry, it’s kind of normal to us now, we don’t really think about it too much. You’ll go crazy if you do.” he smiled, messing with Mingi’s hat. 

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t spend all day thinking about what illnesses you might get that might kill you, right? That’s no way to fucking live.” Mingi said solemnly, “You have to deal with what’s immediately in front of you and you can’t get caught up in the other shit. You’ll go crazy.” 

“Do you guys purely exist to give me philosophical mountain-based life advice?” Yeosang wondered aloud. 

“Wow, that’s a low blow, man. We’re whole ass people too y’know? We continue to exist once we exit your field of vision.” Hongjoong said, scowling at Yeosang for even so much as questioning  _ his _ Mingi. 

“What do you mean about my time with Jongho? Should I be observing him or something?”

“It really isn’t our place to say, Yeosang. Let’s just say that Jonggie has begun to choose his words... carefully... around you and your...  _ man friend. _ ” Hongjoong makes what Yeosang assumes is an attempt  _ not to _ grimace, but a weird face nonetheless. 

“Wooyoung?” Yeosang’s shock momentarily overtook his discomfort at talk of Wooyoung.  _ Dammit, his plan had been to change the subject to a better one, not an infinitely worse one.  _

“Yeah, him. Why the long, scared face?” Mingi asked. “Did MinkyHong miss something?”

“We,” Yeosang sighs, “kinda had a fight up at Camp II.”

“Oh, tea!” Mingi shouted, making sure that everyone who wasn’t awoken by his previous exclamation was now  _ definitely _ awake. “Spicy!”

But Yeosang didn’t laugh. Even though Mingi was very cute, he couldn’t even bring himself to carve out a smile. Hongjoong took note of this (He seems to take note of a lot, Yeosang thought) and calmed Mingi down with nothing more than a pointed look. 

“What happened, my little mountain goat?” Hongjong’s brow furrowed and he put down the oxygen tank he was working on, scooting closer to Yeosang. 

“I thought _ I  _ was your mountain goat!” Mingi pouted, nearly spilling his coffee on his satellite phone. He, too, scooted closer to Yeosang.

“Pinky, you are my mountain; my beautiful sunrise summit view. My first moment on a comfy hotel bed when we get out of here. My favorite carabiner.” Hongjoong grinned and Yeosang thinks _okay, don’t mind me, just having a fucking crisis_ _here. Continue with your fluffy grossness. Some of us are trying to die alone in peace._

“Okay.” Mingi blushed, shutting up. 

Yeosang dished on the fight as Hongjoong patted his back, and Mingi went to get some more coffee from the kitchen. 

“You’re really something, Yeosang.” Hongjoong sent a small smile once Yeosang had finished.

“Huh?”

“Most people I know would have immediately got the fuck out of here. Putting yourself in danger for basically no reason, plus being betrayed by someone you thought you were closest to, who by the way is the one who dragged you here for said lack of reason? Not many people could go on after that shit, man.” Looking up at the mountain, Hongjoong frowns slightly, and Yeosang wonders what could have happened in previous seasons to make him sound so sure.

“Yeah, well,” Yeosang picks at the stitching of his wooly hat, “it’s not like I have much of a choice. Plus, Jongho kind of helped.”

“Oh he diiiiiiid, did he?” Mingi is suddenly back as if magnetically attracted by the sound of potential gossip, eyes shining like the blue ice of the Lhotse face. He scooted impossibly closer, and Yeosang could smell the questionable mountainside coffee on his breath. 

“Not like that, you perv! He just agreed to be my climbing partner and to switch tents with Wooyoung so we wouldn’t have to share.”

“Oh, shit, really?” Hongjoong’s eyes widened.

“I thought Jongho did-” Mingi began, but was elbowed by his  _ life partner  _ and immediately shut up. 

“What?” Yeosang wished people would stop being cut off mid-sentence.  _ A lot of important stuff comes at the end of a sentence. _

“Nothing, Yeosang. You are in excellent hands, and you don’t have to worry about Wooyoung. You’re here now, and you have us. We’re rooting for you!” Hongjoong said as if they’re playing some game of crazy golf and not on a life-or-death mission. 

After another few minutes, Yeosang ambled back to his,  _ their _ , tent. He eyes up a shower since the day might get hot and he wanted to not feel gross (at least physically. Emotionally he’s feeling _super_ gross).

Arriving in the tent, Yeosang was greeted with a  _ shirtless _ Jongho, hair wet. He’d obviously had the same idea. Yeosang just said his praises for the small mercy he didn’t bump  _ into _ Jongho this time. Gay brain wouldn’t have survived that one, not after Jongho had been so nice to him the past few days. 

“Hey Yeosang, how are you feeling? I heard Mingi scream so I assume you were talking to them.”

“Why would you assume that?” Yeosang narrows his eyes.  _ Had Mingi been blabbing to the kitchen staff? _

“He and Hongjoong are just pretty, invested?, I guess that’s the word, in you.” Jongho smiled, eyes shrinking into joyful crescents.  _ He looked so cute.  _ Yeosang was lost in him; eyes traveled from the mole on his neck to the outline of his abdominal muscles to the veins protruding from his forearm. 

Yeosang realized he was  _ absolutely fucked _ just at the time that Jongho let out an awkward cough. “Anyway, we have a weather window that seems to be good for around the 27th. So we need to be leaving Thursday morning.”

It was currently Tuesday, meaning the brief respite offered by Base Camp, running water, and hot food, was soon to come to an end. The thought of returning to constant fear for his life was strangely welcoming. At least then he’d be distracted from his constant fear for his friendship. 

Realizing he must have been caught up in his spiraling thoughts, he snapped out of it and saw Jongho regarding him with wariness. 

“Does that… sound okay to you?” His eyebrows furrowed, and he had this adorable look of concern on his face.  _ Oh my god?! He’s worrying about me!? Little old me?!  _ Gay brain was going haywire. 

“I don’t know man, you’re the professional.” Yeosang blurted out and scurried away, abandoning the shower plans in favor of marinating in his shame at his eternal lameness (and his B.O.).

“Wai- Yeosang, don’t run away from me again, please.” Jongho followed him out to the main camp area, and Yeosang was painfully aware that  _ the group of Indian climbers are looking.  _ He was also painfully aware, however, that Jongho’s voice had a devastating crack at the end of that sentence. 

“What, haha? Nowhere to run, because it’s a mountain, right? Get it?” Yeosang flailed like a fish in a barrel, and Jongho shot him like he is one, too. 

“Yeosang, I really need to talk to you. In private.” Jongho pleads with his eyes, before glancing at the Indian climbers and furrowing his brow as if to say  _ scram _ .

None of the Indian climbers move. 

  
“Well, let’s, like, do it later! I’m hungry. I’m gonna go to the mess tent, see ya, pal!” Yeosang definitely sees an Indian climber roll his eyes at that as he flip-flops his way to the tent, face burning and not from the sun. _You know what,_ _ fuck you, Indian climber.  _ Yeosang is doing his best,  **_okay?!_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send me your hate mail on Twitter or Curiouscat at _monsta_eggs !
> 
> Lin


	8. Day 20-22, Camp IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They spent the night at Camp III, Yeosang once again tied to Jongho, both by a rope and by this strange feeling in his heart. They hadn’t really talked about the ties between them, and Yeosang began to wonder if he was imagining this whole thing, a twisted consequence of weeks of oxygen deprivation. Can oxygen deprivation make you fall for your cute mountain guide and start imagining he’s flirting back? There was nothing about that in the books Yeosang had read on the plane to Kathmandu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, campers!
> 
> New laptop charge in tow, here we are! Thanks to you all for the lovely comments and kudos, it really means a lot! I have been varying shades of angsty emo this week and your comments always cheer me up. Also this bad boy is double the usual chapter length! As my way of a thank you.
> 
> This chapter is for Ro, who basically wrote half of it with his great ideas. Check out his amazing Jongsang works [here](https://twitter.com/jxngsxng)!
> 
> Also, today (May 23) marks the usual beginning of the Everest Summit window! My challenge to myself is to upload the next chapter (with the summit) on May 29, the anniversary of the first confirmed summit of the mountain! Whether or not I can do this remains to be seen but! attempts will be made.
> 
> Also, PSA, I changed my Twitter to [@yeosangfroid](https://twitter.com/yeosangfroid), so hit me up there or on [CuriousCat!](https://curiouscat.me/yeosangfroid)
> 
> Thanks!  
> Lin

Yeosang knew, scientifically, that there was a perfectly good reason for this: that if he was magically transported to the top of Mt Everest, he’d not even last an hour. His brain would effectively explode, deprived of oxygen and swelling with nowhere to go other than down his spine. Which, call him crazy, didn’t sound like Yeosng’s idea of a good time. 

Despite knowing all this, Yeosang _palpably_ _detested_ the route-march of navigating Khumbu, Camp II, and Camp III all over again. He was feeling the fatigue, both physically and emotionally. He had become keenly aware of the masses of people at Base Camp upon the team’s return, and yet he had never felt so _alone_. All his nodes of human contact had become strange, strained. He was fortunate to say a tearful goodbye to Mingi and Hongjoong as they set out, promising to see them on the way down, and wishing them a safe climb. 

It was _definitely_ worse the second time around, also because Yeosang knew what difficulties were coming next. He knew that it didn’t get better even after two hours on the Icefall, remembering the five-hour traipse from the previous round. The illusion of hoping for a letup in incline or snowfall had fully melted away (ironically, unlike the snow making it impossible to see where he was landing his crampons). That, and not being able to talk with Wooyoung. 

The other man had buddied up with Cathy and Rob, two of the middle-aged white people from their expedition. They were certainly strange bedfellows. Yeosang couldn’t imagine them having a lot in common to talk about. Wooyoung had never cared much for The Cheesecake Factory or Nordstrom.

Yeosang, for his part, had mostly stuck with Jongho. Although their relationship was obviously on some kind of thin ice (Yeosang wished he had a better metaphor that didn’t seem to mock his current .. predicament.. so closely), Yeosang still felt safe with Jongho, and not just because he could reattach a carabiner in one hand while simultaneously sharpening his crampons with another. He felt the kind of safety with Jongho that came with knowing you didn’t have any work meetings and could laze in bed with an UberEats pizza order and a slew of YouTube videos. A safety that wasn’t flashy or loud; just quiet and content. Which, Yeosang guessed, was a bit weird, because at the moment his lungs, toes, and nose were anything but content. They kinda hated him. 

They spent the night at Camp III, Yeosang once again tied to Jongho, both by a rope and by this strange feeling in his heart. They hadn’t really talked about the ties between them, and Yeosang began to wonder if he was imagining this whole thing, a twisted consequence of weeks of oxygen deprivation. _Can oxygen deprivation make you fall for your cute mountain guide and start imagining he’s flirting back?_ There was nothing about that in the books Yeosang had read on the plane to Kathmandu. 

The tent was silent, and Yeosang sighed into his sleeping bag. He suddenly felt like this whole thing had got away from him. He was no longer in control. He felt like the physical difficulties, and calling them difficulties was certainly an understatement, of this mountain had given way to the mental strain. Not just the pain and stress of his web of social complexities, but of keeping focussed enough to put one foot in front of the other. 

“You’re thinking so loudly, Yeosangie. Talk to me” Jongho broke the silence, flipping around to face Yeosang’s back. 

_Prime spooning time, huh,_ gay brain piped up, sadly unimpaired by the reduction in oxygen intake. 

Jongho had never called him _that_ before. 

Sighing, again, Yeosang removed his balaclava, “It’s just a lot.”

“What is?” Jongho sounded confused, furrowing his eyebrows very much like a puppy who has been denied their rightful bacon-flavored confection.

His nonchalance was infuriating to Yeosang. Surely he understood that this whole thing was stressful? Surely at some point in recent human history, Jongho had been worried about a climb? 

“What do you mean what is? We’re climbing the tallest mountain on Earth not deciding which flour to buy at Trader Joe’s! Jesus fucking Christ!” exclaimed Yeosang.

He turned back to face the other and was surprised when Jongho’s face was right in front of his own. The other man must have shuffled (ungraciously, Yeosang is sure) to be nearer him (gay brain _screamed_ ).

“Oh, yeah, the mountain,” Jongho began, seemingly a little surprised, “I know, Sangie. I get that you’d be worried. But you need to trust me. Trust that I know what I’m doing.” he placated.

A beat of silence. In the distance, Yeosang heard an avalanche. It wasn’t loud enough to indicate any real danger and didn’t sound like it was coming from one of the climbing routes anyway, but it seemed to incense Yeosang to just fucking _say something._

“I’d trust you from the summit of the mountain to the Challenger Deep” he whispered. 

_Wow, seems like gay brain was taking the wheel._

Even in the relative dark of the tent, closer to the stars than a streetlight, something shone in Jongho’s eyes, almost blinding. Yeosang didn’t know exactly how he felt at that moment, other than how you feel when the rollercoaster is about to do a big dip or when they’re about to announce the winner of the _Eurovision Song Contest_ ; all loopy and giddy, on a precipice. 

Jongho seemed to be inching closer at a glacial ( _get it? Because it’s a mountain that has at its foot a large and mobile glacier!?_ ) pace, and then he placed a small, innocent kiss on Yeosang’s chapped and wind-burned lips.

Honestly, it wasn’t really what Yeosang had imagined for his fairytale first kiss moment. Firstly, they couldn’t really move or make any kind of bodily contact, wrapped in about 4 layers of thick wool and thermals. It isn’t sexy to kiss while wearing 5 pairs of socks. Secondly, it was only a peck, whereas Yeosang had been picturing a Disney-style firework-laden makeout session, preferably against one of the big boulders in lieu of a sexy _kabedon_ wall. Thirdly, he could feel that his toes were going numb from the cold and his stomach hadn’t stopped hurting due to altitude sickness (oh yeah, and the chapped lips). 

But _boy, oh boy_ (I guess literally boy, huh); none of that shit mattered. The warmth that instantly flowed through Yeosang during and after the kiss was intense, like the sun reflecting off the snow back at Camp II. Like the boiling water they prepared for drinking and treating frostbite. Like _Jongho_.

He didn’t even realize he’d closed his eyes, lost in a world in which they could move properly, where he could jump up and down and dance around in happiness. Opening his eyes, he was met with a smiling Jongho, head resting on his arm, and grinning dumbly. 

“Wow, you are so indomitably cute, huh?” Jongho whispered back.

Yeosang grinned back, snuggling closer to get at more of Jongho’s addictive warmth. Unwittingly, he fell asleep surrounded by ice, snow, and a warmth that you wouldn't think to associate with either.

* * *

They prepared to depart for Camp IV the next morning and hooked themselves up to oxygen for the first time since they’d practiced how to use the apparatus at Base Camp. The deteriorating stability of the ground beneath them, and the fact that they were still getting used to the immense altitude, the group had to remain closer together on this stage of the climb. Yeosang was keenly aware that Wooyoung was right in front of Apa, who was right in front of himself. Jongho was right behind. _Ah yes, a social awkwardness sandwich._

_Or, like, a baguette?_

Jongho and Yeosanf hadn’t really talked about what happened the previous night, just like in all good romance stories that rely on poor communication as a driver of plot. They’d shared some small smiles as they dressed and packed, still roped together. Jongho had been less boisterous and more subdued as they dismantled the tent and packed the bags.. Yeosang could only wonder if that would translate to his behavior on the climb. He wondered how Jongho would be to Wooyoung, now the guide had seemingly chosen a side ( _in Yeosang’s book, playing lip lacrosse fully counts as taking a side and he will not tolerate rebuttals at this time_ ). 

Wooyoung. 

He wasn’t even sure if he should be angry anymore. He was sad, of course, but also, he _missed_ Wooyoung. As lovely as Jongho was (and he really was _divine,_ even more so as of last night), Wooyoung knew everything about Yeosang, what made him tick. He’d agreed to this whole thing because he thought no matter the danger of the situation he was in, Wooyoung would know him well enough to be able to keep him safe.

Yeosang sighed and stood up, slinging his pack over his shoulders. _No point in angsting while stationary when you could angst while climbing..._

Setting off at 6 am, the wind was biting, but by the time the sun rose, it had got incredibly hot. Yeosang was suddenly thankful for this lack of layers that he’d cussed out earlier. The expedition scrambled up the steep, rocky face until reaching what Yeosang first thought was a collection of climbers huddling around someone who’d been in an accident. Remembering the … incident with the Taiwanese climber from not that long ago, Yeosang’s chest constricted with worry. He didn’t think he could see something like that again and not quit right then and there. However, once he got closer, he realized the huddle was actually a group of climbers ….. _waiting…. in line?_

A line, to climb a mountain. _This wasn’t a fucking Dairy Queen,_ Yeosang thought. 

“Yeah, it happens” Jongho barked from behind him, resting his ax against a nearby rock. Yeosang could have sworn he didn’t say that out loud. _Did Jongho read his mind? Was that a thing gays could do once they kissed?_ Gay brain panicked.

“How long will we be here?” Yeosang tried to ignore the aching in his back and the thirst in his throat as he found his footing. He was trying to use as little energy as possible in preventing himself from slipping off the face of the Earth so he could have it for doing that exact thing later on. You know, when he could actually _move_. 

“No way to tell. It seems like someone turned back a few hundred feet up, so it’ll take a few minutes to unclip and reclip them from the ropes. Hopefully the people in front won’t delay too much longer. Can’t be wasting the O’s.” Jongho stepped closer to Yeosang to check the pressure of his oxygen canister, making a small adjustment to accommodate his still position. 

“I don’t know how long I can just… wait here” Yeosang felt the acid in his chest rising again, just like when he’d thought someone was hurt. It felt like they were sitting ducks for any number of disasters. _Avalanches, embolisms, falling…_

“Unfortunately the rock up here is so unstable that there aren’t that many fixed ropes, plus the narrow summit window we, and everyone else here, is looking at will mean you gotta get used to this kind of thing, Yeosang.” Jongho frowned and stepped back, gazing up to the area where Yeosang supposed the summit was supposed to be, obscured by cloud and rock. 

Sighing, and regarding the rainbow of jackets ahead of him, Yeosang jammed his ax into the ice and made peace with the fact that he was gonna have to wait. He tried to focus on his breathing and not worry about the oxygen in his canister that was steadily depleting. 

Suddenly, there was another big commotion up ahead, some words spoken in Nepali, and then Apa was unclipping himself from the rope and moving up ahead, _skipping the line!_

“What the hell?” Yeosang heard Wooyoung exclaim.

“Someone needs help with their pack up there, Apa needs to go,” Jongho explained from behind Yeosang. 

And then there were three.

Like some evil omniscient force was controlling the ridiculous events in Yeosang’s life, here he was, his (ex?) best friend on one side, and his crush ( _Are we at that point now? Actually verbalizing it?_ ) on the other.

There was no way out. To attempt to unclip from the rope to go up or down would not only constitute a social _Thing_ that Yeosang would have to answer for later, probably to both Wooyoung and Jongho, but would also mean certain death. 

A beat passed and Wooyoung turned back.

“Yeosang” he nodded, short and clipped.

“Wooyoung” Yeosang rallied back in much the same tone.

Silence. 

Wooyoung busied himself checking his nose for sunburn and his crampons’ hold on the ice. Yeosang just stared at him.

“Are you ok?” Yeosang attempted.

A long pause.

“Fine, yeah. Fine” Wooyoung offered, never meeting Yeosang’s eyes.

While he wanted, so desperately, to make a jibe about Wooyoung’s new friends and how they must be enjoying talking about their new fitted kitchens and receding hairlines. But he didn’t. In desperate need to resolve things, he tried to keep it light. 

“Yeah, no-no worries” Yeosang tried to smile, forgetting he was wearing an Oxygen mask and probably just looked like an idiot. 

More silence. Yeosang heard Jongho fiddle with the radio behind him, trying to see what the hold up was, and more importantly when Apa would be back. 

“H- How are you finding the climb?” Yeosang once again tried.

“Uh, fine. Yeah.” Wooyoung didn’t really seem like he was trying to maintain a normal adult conversation. Well, not an _adult_ conversation. A conversation adults might have.

Another beat.

“Okay” Yeosang pushed out, fiddling again, with his goggles this time. 

A hubbub of movement caught his attention again, as Apa weaved in-between the dumb tourists to reclaim his space between the pair. 

“Sorry, I had to grab this from Pemba. He’s not doing great, using up his O’s. Things should be okay now. I radioed down to Bill at Base Camp” Apa spoke around Yeosang to Jongho, who nodded and spoke quickly into his radio again, relaying the info to Yunho. 

Yeosang couldn’t help but note how Wooyoung hadn’t asked how he was doing. 

After another half an hour, filled mostly with Apa and Jongho discussing Pemba’s condition and the plans for recruiting a backup porter in case he didn’t improve, and Yeosang and Wooyoung not speaking at all, the group could finally move again. Yeosang had never been more grateful to strain his muscles and abuse his lungs. 

After another short but steep section, sticking out of the mountainside itself but made easier by the rocky path, beaten into the ground by the climbers before them, they reached Camp IV on the South Col.

* * *

Col is a French-derived word meaning the lowest point of a ridge between two peaks. The frankly boringly named South Col is the, well, col, between Everest and Lhotse, the fourth-highest mountain in the world. Mount Everest actually boasts 2 cols, the North Col (between it and Changtse in Tibet), and the South Col. This is where the group was to make their final Camp before heading to the Summit. 

From the South Col, the views are impeccable. It’s just over 7,900 meters in the air, meaning, for the most part, climbers have a view of the clouds from the top down. On a good day, the summits of up to 32 other mountains are visible, including Manaslu, nearly 150 miles away. 

Yeosang sort of feels like the journey up to this point has been climbing one mountain, but the journey to the Summit is a whole other mountain in itself. The col itself is relatively flat and snowless due to the high winds, and he feels like he’s all the way back down on the ground. Like he has to start all over again. 

From the camp, the summit pyramid is clearly visible, looking like an Oreo that someone has bitten into weirdly, taking half of the filling as they do. It’s black and white and jagged and tall and _there_. 

He remembers reading about George Mallory, one of the first people to climb this mountain. When someone asked him why he wanted to climb Mount Everest, he simply answered: “because it’s there.” Yeosang suddenly unequivocally understood what he meant. 

Sadly, no one knows if Mallory and his expedition-mate Andrew Irvine were the first people to summit Everest, 29 years before the success of Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay. They died somewhere on the way down but weren’t discovered until 1999, 75 years after they went missing. Whether or not they made it is still a topic of hot debate among Everest enthusiasts. Yeosang couldn’t help but worry that his understanding of Mallory’s attitude would lead him to suffer a similar fate.

“It’s just sitting there, watching us, tempting us, saying ‘come on, take a shot! Climb me!’” he mutters to himself, unaware that Jongho is beside him. The sun was setting across the Himalayas, bathing the snowcaps in a warm orange that was _just so fucking romantic Jesus Christ could this get any more cheesy_ , gay brain panicked, surprising _still_ unimpaired by the lack of breathable atmosphere. 

Yeosang jumped out of his skin, but luckily he wasn’t on an incline, otherwise, this story would be over before anything juicy got to happen. 

They sat together, watching the sun setting over the peaks of the Himalayas, and trying to eat their pathetic energy bars and drink their pre-boiled snow. Yeosang could tell his digestive system hated him right now, even more than after a particularly spicy hotpot. 

Jongho stared out into the horizon, barely even blinking. His eyelashes were frozen, but he didn’t seem to notice, or give a shit. 

“Are you worried?” Yeosang asked from behind his oxygen mask. 

_Great conversation starter, yikes_ , gay brain contributed. 

Jongho barked out a laugh and bit a corner off his peanut bar, “Of course I fucking am. If shit hadn’t got real before, it certainly is now.”

_Well, that was a change of tune._

Surprised, Yeosang turned to face Jongho more directly, “But this is, like, your vocation? You said I had to trust you.” kicking a couple rocks around with his ax, he met Jongho’s eyes again. Aside from the stark white eyelashes, they held something else surprising: fear. 

“Listen, Yeosang. I want you to know something about me” Jongho began, putting down his peanut bar. He put it where some gross dust would get on it, Yeosang could tell, but he didn’t seem to care.

Yeosang didn’t even know how to respond to that statement. _Weren’t they in post-kiss harmony? Some kind of honeymoon period? Was that how this worked? Did mountain guides have a different timeline?_

Jongho exhaled deeply, looking directly at Yeosang now. “I’ve been climbing for ten years. I’ve been a guide for five. People see me as this prodigy, this genius. This infallible god of sticking my boots into shit and hauling myself up. But I’m not. I’ve let people down... in the past. With horrible consequences.” his voice was flat. He had rehearsed this. _Or maybe this is what he says to everyone._

Well, this wasn’t the confession Yeosang had been hoping for. He was more hoping for another _“let’s lock our chapped lips and swap more frozen saliva, babe.”_

“I don’t want to let you down like that.” Jongho’s words were almost inaudible.

“Why would you think you’d let me down? I don’t think you coul-” he tried to placate, suddenly overly aware of how their roles had flipped in just a number of hours. 

“Well, I can okay! I can and I have” Jongho dug his boots into the rock again, seemingly in frustration.

“...What do you mean?” he didn’t know whether Jongho was talking about the mountain... _Or something else._

_What else could he possibly be talking about?_

“I’m not good enough. Not good enough to protect you up here,” he muttered, gesturing for Yeosang to follow him back to the tent. They put their oxygen masks back on and clipped in, just in case. Yeosang didn’t even know if they had to clip in up at Camp IV. 

In the tent, Yeosang waited for Jongho to elaborate. 

“You need someone who can keep you safe. My track record says I can’t do that. I will absolutely not be able to live with myself if something happens to you. Look at today. I couldn’t do anything about that traffic jam, or you having to be with Wooyoung again. We should have left Base Camp earlier. I made a bad call. This traffic isn’t gonna let up and you’re gonna be in danger. I-”

Jongho stopped as Yeosang hauled his Michelin-Man body over to the other man’s, tucking his head, oxygen mask and all, under Jongho’s chin and slinging his leg over the man’s waist. 

“W-What are you doing?” Jongho exclaimed.

“I’m huddling for warmth, what does it look like?” Yeosang spoke, thankful for the muffling of his oxygen mask broadcasting his absolute cheese far less than otherwise. He wondered if the winds would carry his bullshit all the way to Base Camp, but then he realized he didn’t really give a shit. 

He spoke again, looking up to meet Jongho’s eyes, “I’ve got my big handsome mountain guide who seemingly radiates heat energy, so forgive me for taking advantage. You’ve already done so much to protect me. I don’t feel safer with anyone else.”

He felt Jongho relax around him, and touch his baklava-d forehead to Yeosang’s own. Suddenly, it wasn’t just the excitement of the hours to come that prevented him from sleeping, but he drifted off somehow. 

* * *

Before Yeosang knew it, it was 9.30 at night. The team gathered in the darkness, preparing the final packs and oxygen tanks to take with them to the summit.

The _summit_ , it was finally happening. 

“Okay campers, here we are!'' Jongho began, locking eyes with Yeosang as the other expedition members gathered around. He made some final gear checks and made sure everyone had a backup respirator and knew where the oxygen bottles were stashed along the planned route. 

“Listen, now. We stick to the summit plan we discussed in Kathmandu, we don’t take any, and I mean any, risks. If you aren’t at the summit by 9 am, you turn around. Wherever you are. I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re one foot from the summit, you turn around. Do not succumb to Summit Fever. Standing on that dinner table up there is not worth your life. You need to turn around? You turn around.” he warned, eyes hardened with determination and concern.”You need help, talk to me, Apa, Kami, and Pasang. Pemba will be climbing but he’s a bit weak, so go to Kami or Pasang first, okay Cathy?”

Jongho looked to Yeosang one more time and gave a smile before he donned his oxygen mask.

And they were off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See ya'll campers on May 29! 
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/yeosangfroid)  
> [Curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/yeosangfroid)


	9. Day 23-24, Summit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jongho seemed to notice Yeosang’s discomfort with the whole episode and kept close to Yeosang on the next section. Yeosang was in awe of his ability to manage his own physical deterioration, which Yeosang could only assume was rather extensive given how shitty he himself felt, as well as all the spinning plates of the other expedition members. He was even able to look out for Yeosang’s sulks amongst all of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, campers!
> 
> TW for this chapter: descriptions of dead bodies and scary moments in general
> 
> Happy first summit of Everest day! I'm not super happy with this, but I think I'll probably never be happy with it and I wanted to make sure I got it out today. This was always going to be a bit jam-packed and I'm totally aware it's very rushed and weird pacing-wise. However, I'm still somewhat happy with it and I'm happy I could get it out today. 
> 
> Thanks again for all your love and support!! 
> 
> My Twitter is [@yeosangfroid](https://twitter.com/yeosangfroid), so hit me up there or on [CuriousCat!](https://curiouscat.me/yeosangfroid)

Of the almost 300 people who have died on Everest, the majority have done so in the (aptly, yes, but also _slightly_ dramatically-named) Death Zone. 

The Death Zone marks the area where by just being there, your body is slowly (well, actually, quite quickly) dying, effectively eating away at itself. It’s the place where oxygen is at 30% of surface levels at best, so you will suffocate even if inhaling additional oxygen: without this bottled oxygen, one dies in the Death Zone in a matter of hours. Even with it, you’ll only last up to a _maximum_ of 2 days. It’s not to be fucked with. 

On average, for every 6 successful summits of Mt Everest, one climber dies. Yeosang is acutely aware that there are 7 people in their summit push team: Yeosang, Wooyoung, Jongho, Cathy, Pemba, Apa and Rob. Yeosang imagined this whole thing as an elaborate game of Russian Roulette that the whole team was playing. Of course, he hoped that they’d all escape with their lives, but he knew better than to take statistics for granted. He just wished he wouldn’t draw the live round.

Yeosang knew how bad this whole situation was, but he was absolutely unprepared for how it _felt_. Hypoxia, lack of oxygen to the brain, means you become confused and can hallucinate, as well as brings a sizeable amount of pain as your body says “hey, man, just checking in to let you know you should ABSOLUTELY GET TO LOWER GROUND, LIKE, YESTERDAY BECAUSE OUR BRAIN IS ABOUT TO FALL OUT OF OUR SKULL THROUGH OUR SPINAL CORD.” Yeosang felt constantly nauseous, his head pounding, worse than his worst hangover. Trying to move just a couple of steps almost brought him to his knees, panting the whole time. Self-motivation in this unpleasant situation is the most important thing, because at least moving means you are encouraging blood flow to your most-likely-to-fall-off bits. 

He felt like he was like sprinting on a treadmill and breathing through a straw, so although making sure he actually kept moving was the only way to not die, he really didn’t want to. However, at that moment Yeosang honestly didn’t care if he died or not. 

The first actual climbing-related obstacle was a large triangular face, steep and slippery, and made more difficult by the dark of the night and the whipping winds. By only the light of the moon and his wimpy headlamp, Yeosang could just make out what was 6 feet in front of him. The surroundings were totally silent, except for the smush of snow under his boots and the occasional clanking of carabiners against the rock, and his own pounding heart. For the first time probably in Yeosang’s entire goddamn life, gay brain was silent. He felt truly, honestly, alone. 

How did anyone do this _without_ supplemental oxygen? Yeosang felt two shades away from being dead and he was still inhaling ridiculous amounts of O’s through the ungainly mask Jongho’s company had provided. Along with the fear of falling off the fucking rock was the constant nagging that the O bottle he was using wasn’t unlimited, and there was a very real possibility of him running out. He couldn’t even entertain that thought or Yeosang knew he’d just curl up and freeze, terrified. 

At the Balcony, a famous ledge on the route to the summit, where they were able to get some precious rest, they switched their oxygen tanks, relief coursing through Yeosang that he’d at least got to a checkpoint. While catching his breath (or rather, poorly attempting to,) Yeosang glanced at Jongho, illuminated partially by the orange sun climbing over the horizon. His handsome features, soft light bouncing off, was a sight for (very) sore eyes. 

They continued to trudge along, gradually warming up thanks to the sunrise, and also, having the advantage of _being able to fucking see._ At some point a couple of hours later, they reached a small peak, the shadow of the main summit looming ahead. 

“South Summit!” Jongho shouted to the team from behind his mask. Apa climbed a little higher to retrieve some stashed oxygen canisters to replace it for anyone who needed it.

The South Summit, the second-highest peak in the world. 

It was basically just a ledge with a tiny space to stand, with the pyramid of Everest’s main summit on one side, looming ominously, and absolutely _nothing_ on the other. The team took pictures here, just in case they didn’t make it to the _real_ summit and had to “settle” for this. The thought of failing now made Yeosang’s toes curl, even through his 5 layers of socks. But nonetheless, he battled through his headache, his stomachache and his nausea to smile for the photos. 

Yeosang had read in some shitty Vice article that Everest becomes entirely a mental, not physical, battle after the South Summit. The struggles still exist physically, of course, but the real battle is with your own mind. Fighting to keep going, keep putting one foot in front of the other. Not forgetting where and who you are, not being tempted to have a sit down to rest. If you do that, you’ll not get up again. 

Wooyoung kept at a distance still, sticking with Cathy and Rob.

As they were preparing to set off again, Yeosang noticed Rob getting somewhat agitated. He wanted to sit down and rest, no matter how many times Jongho and Pemba explained that this was not an option. 

“I’m fine, I just want to rest for a second. We’ll be back in time for lunch,” He insisted, clearly unaware that it was 6.45 am and lunch was sadly very far away indeed.

Despite Jongho’s careful efforts to placate the man, he became more aggressive as he was encouraged to get moving again.

“Get away, boy! I don’t know you!” he shouted, trying to bat at Jongho as he tried to force him to stand. 

After a tense moment of silence in which Yeosang really thought this whole thing might be over, for all of them, Jongho just sighed and went about radioing down to let Yunho know of Rob’s condition, and that he’d need to come down. 

Wooyoung was there to comfort Cathy as Apa fixed himself to Rob via a short (dangerously short, Yeosang observed) rope and began coaxing him back down, turning up his oxygen respirator in the hopes he’d remember where he was. Cathy fretted for several minutes about whether to go on, or head back down with her husband.

“He’d want you to go and do it, you know” Yeosang heard Wooyoung advise, only feeling approximately five percent bitter at Wooyoung’s newfound sympathy for a random lady _he’d only just met._

After some words from Pemba and Jongho, Cathy decided to continue on, giving Wooyoung a half-hug in thanks for his support, and gazing back down the route to see Rob meekly disagreeing with Apa, but reluctantly cooperating in descending nonetheless. 

Jongho seemed to notice Yeosang’s discomfort with the whole episode, and kept close to Yeosang on the next section. Yeosang was in awe of his ability to manage his own physical deterioration, which Yeosang could only assume was rather extensive given how shitty he himself felt, as well as all the spinning plates of the other expedition members. He was even able to look out for Yeosang’s sulks amongst all of that. 

And Jongho _Kept. Freaking. Doing. It._ At one particularly scary moment a little higher up from the South Summit, Yeosang stopped to turn off his headlamp and suddenly felt like he was drowning, totally unable to breathe, and taking bigger breaths only made the situation worse. He had no idea what was happening to him. 

Was this when he died?

He felt Jongho’s presence behind him, and heard what sounded like glass breaking. Had his respirator broken? Would he have to turn around? Could he make it back to Camp IV?

Then, just as quickly as it had set in, the feeling disappeared, and he could breathe again. Turning his head around, he looked at Jongho questioningly.

“Ice build-up on the pressure gauge. It happens,” he grunted out, brandishing the ice that must have been covering Yeosang’s oxygen release pump. 

This struck Yeosang again with immense feelings of affection. Jongho had looked after him. Again. It was seeming less and less like a fluke or some bout of previously-unseen professionalism Yeosang hadn’t realised previously how deeply he yearned to be looked after. Yes, he wanted to prove he could do this, but at that moment he was so terrified, so deprived of everything that made his body work, he just wanted to curl up in Jongho’s arms and be carried around like a small koala cub. He didn’t care about proving anything to Wooyoung, San or even himself. He just wanted the pain to stop. 

And Jongho had been there regardless. Regardless of how bitchy Yeosang had been, how inexperienced a climber he was. Jongho was just _there_. 

The team continued for another hour, watching the sunrise but being careful not to be distracted by its beauty. The good weather had meant a couple more bouts of standing in line, but Yeoang was thankful for his position between Pemba, leading the pack, and Jongho. Pemba was a kind man who kept pulling out his camera to snap pictures of Yeosang in action. How he could remember how a camera worked, Yeosang didn’t know. 

Suddenly, he suddenly realized he had seen a pair of boots out the corner of his eye just hanging outside the cave. _Was someone in trouble again?_

Yeosang yelled to Jongho, thinking maybe they could radio down, get someone to come help. Jongho turned around from where he was hammering his ax into the ice. He followed Yeosang’s line of sight, and just shook his head.

Yeosang didn’t get it at first. _Why would Jongho refuse to help someone? Why wouldn’t he even go to check? What the fuck? Wasn’t there some kind of Hippocratic oath for mountain climbers that he had to abide by?_

Maybe Jongho wasn’t the hero, the protector, that Yeosang had thought he was. He’d been dedicating all this time and energy on this stretch to minding Yeosang. Did he only look after Yeosang so he could get into Yeosang’s (frozen) pants? Was this all a ruse? Yeosang wasn’t exactly a man of rock-solid (haha!) principles, but he damn well knew that they couldn’t just leave someone out there to _freeze_.

He dug his crampons into the snow below him determinedly, exhausting himself more just to try and catch up to Jongho and give him a piece of his mind. He noticed the guide was waiting for him at the next ladder, not ascending up the boulder to the traverse just yet. 

When he got close enough, Jongho removed his oxygen mask, and brought his face right up to Yeosang’s.

“He’s been there for years, Yeosang. He’s gone,” Jongho coughed hoarsely briefly before continuing, “Too risky to try and get him down.”

The weight of that statement hit Yeosang like a tsunami. _Of course._

People die on mountains, especially Everest, a lot. And it’s ridiculously dangerous and expensive to remove their bodies from the mountain, especially at high altitudes. So they mostly stay where they died, sometimes for decades, frozen, a snapshot of their last moments. Yeosang had read about these people, seemingly placed on pause for the rest of eternity, the wind still whipping their hair as if they’d just stopped for a breather. But they were _gone_. 

Jongho moved to look at Yeosang and mustered up a sad smile. 

“Gotta keep going” he said, and brought his gloved hand up to caress Yeosang’s face, although it turned out to be more like an icy slap due to his thick gloves. Yeosang appreciated the effort nonetheless. 

Then, to the scariest thing Yeosang has ever done, which he thought, after the events of the last month, was definitely saying something: the Cornice Traverse. On one side, it was 8,000 ft down the southwest face and on the other, the Kangshung face, a 11,000 ft drop. Yeosang felt the sting of vertigo, uneasy with the snow’s soft edges and huge sheer drops. One wrong foot placement and he would literally be gone; rope or no rope. Best case scenario he’d fall down the face and end up suspended completely alone only by his rope, just waiting for an avalanche to come and take him out. But he couldn’t even devote the mental energy to being terrified. 

At that moment, he couldn’t even process the fact that he was on a mountain. It was like his brain was running on ultra-low-power mode. All he could conceptualise was putting a foot down, picking the other one up, putting it down, and repeating, counting the entire time to make sure he didn’t lose track of where he was. He could see, with extraordinary clarity, the curvature of the Earth from his position on the traverse. It was like outer space came to meet them. He could see the sun from a whole new angle; all of a sudden, the insane smallness of Earth’s place in the universe, and his own insignificant place on it, was staggeringly obvious. 

The final part of this ridiculous, dangerous, terrifying journey is basically just a walk up a slightly snowy hill to the summit, a little anticlimactic if you asked Yeosang. BUt that would be if you asked him after. On that morning he literally could have leaned down and kissed the snowy hill, eternally thankful for something slightly less terrifying (of course, had he leaned down he probably would’ve taken an hour to get back up again, but the thought still stands).

Yeosang didn’t even notice that they were even on the summit at first, in fact, for an embarrassingly long time. He just noticed that there wasn’t anywhere further to walk. His routine of counting, lifting one foot and putting it down again, was suddenly broken by the stark lack of _more mountain._

They’d made it. He could see the bright colors of the prayer flags surrounding the small sign at the summit, hear the cheers and happy cries of summiters already there. 

At 8.43 am on May 29 2020, Yeosang, Wooyoung, Jongho, Pemba and Cathy from Long Journey Expeditions stood on the roof of the world, closer to space and the astronauts in the ISS than to the ground. The goal they had set out to achieve was actually in front of them, no more than 30 square feet. But Yeosang was too excited, and exhausted, to be underwhelmed.

Wooyoung had no sooner reached the summit than he was calling San using the 5G provided (for some god-awful reason). He could hear Wooyoung’s potent emotion in his voice, and San’s concern when he started coughing and had to inhale more oxygen to keep talking. The relief in the air was palpable, but Yeosang was hit by a sober kind of happiness. Just getting to the top didn’t mean that he wasn’t still at the mountain’s mercy, and the tides could change in the blink of an eye. 

Jongho was surprised when Yeosang refused the phone. He had no one to call. He sent a text to his mom, but he knew she would be asleep and wouldn’t appreciate being woken up for something as trivial as _reaching the top of Mt Everest_. It was just how she was. Jongho’s response to this, after his initial surprise, was to give Yeosang a huge smile and dial a number on the phone that Yeosang didn’t recognise, and put the phone to his ear.

“Hello? Jonggie?” he heard a familiar voice question. Hongjoong!

“Uh, no, actually it’s Yeosang” he spoke, trying desperately not to cough up a lung. Or burst into tears. 

“Oh my god! Are you okay? Has something happened to my Ho-Ho?” he heard further rustling.

“He’s fine, we, uh, made it”

“Oh my gooood! Minnie, Minnie come here! Yeosangie made it! They summited!” Hongjoong screeched, and Yeosang actually had to remove the phone from right beside his ear, even with the layers of hats and snowsuits in the way. That man could project...

Yeosang could hear a vague crashing sound and then suddenly Mingi’s voice boomed through the sat phone.

“Kang Yeosang!!! You did it! I am so proud oh my god I’m going to cry,” he began, sniffled a little and then suddenly stopped “no, no Joongie I’m okay, don’t be sad! I’m not sad!” he placated.

“Uh” Yeosang interrupted, not keen to spend his entire time on the summit listening to Mingi and Hongjoong be gross together. If anything, he wanted some grossness for himself, with Jongho. 

“Oh, sorry Yeosangie!” Mingi boomed again, “we’re so proud of you oh my god! My own son! On the top of Mt Everest!”

Jongho quickly grabbed the phone back and barked “he is literally older than you Mingi. He’s not your son.” but smiled at Yeosang regardless.

“But seriously Sangie, amazing job!!! This is truly no mean feat. We’re at Camp IV now, hoping to summit tomorrow and then we will have a drink back at Base Camp when we all return!” Hongjoong said, with Mingi’s wails of happiness still audible in the background.

“Anyway, we will let you go and enjoy your time! Don’t smooch too much and forget to climb down agai-” Jongho cut Mingi off, hanging up the phone, and smiled sheepishly. 

Thereupon, it was as if Yeosang’s heart had become whole again. He _did_ have someone to call, someone who cared whether he lived or died. He was also aware that Wooyoung was within hearing distance of that whole conversation, and a small, vindictive part of him hoped Wooyoung felt a little bad. But he didn’t want to dwell on it, he wanted to live in the more important things. 

Jongho took lots of photos of him, sitting on the bench, holding a US flag, and a Korean one. Jongho took pictures holding the Long Journeys logo. Pemba insisted, despite their embarrassment, to also take pictures of Jongho and Yeosang together, as well as one of the whole expedition team together. The pair did a smiling one, one with their arms around each other, and Pemba made them do one making a heart together with their arms.

_Where had he even learned the K-pop couple heart?_ Yeosang wondered.

After the photo ops, and greeting some newly-arrived summiters from the north route, Jongho and Yeosang stood, rather awkwardly off to the side, looking at the horizon. It looked like they were floating in a bowl of cereal with just the milk and tiny pieces of soggy flakes left. Pristine white clouds gave the illusion of ground, but really they were as high as an airplane flies; far, far away from any kind of solid surface other than the one they were currently clinging to. The other peaks in the area protruded proudly from the clouds, but none came close to how high they were. They were the tallest people on Planet Earth.

Yeosang linked his arm through Jongho’s unable to hold hands because of those fucking gloves but wanting to nonetheless. Having removed his goggles, Jongho turned to look at him and his eyes shone with someone Yeosang hadn’t seen before. _Happiness at success? Happiness at knowing he’d get his summit bonus? Or something else?_

“You did it, princess,” he grinned, and it reminded Yeosang of all his other smiles, from the cheeky one in the shower cubicle back at Base Camp, to the one only hours ago, after Yeosang saw the body.

“Thanks to you” Yeosang quipped back, attempting to caress Jongho’s face with a glove but ending up basically punching him in the face with an icy paw in what he _swears_ wasn’t a retaliation for Jongho’s earlier identical move. The other man didn’t seem to mind though, grinning and giving Yeosang an Eskimo kiss, frozen nose to frozen nose. Here was someone who had doubted Yeosang’s ability to even carry his pack at the beginning of the climb, now standing beside him, equals at the ceiling of the world, giving him a fucking _Eskimo kiss._

_Was PDA allowed on the summit? No one had ever mentioned anything about that._

“Can’t wait to kiss you when our faces aren’t about to fall off” Jongho whispered against Yeosang’s face, emboldened, perhaps, by their success and current alive-ness. 

“Oh, so you assume you’ll get the chance to?” Yeosang didn’t know where this confidence came from; maybe the whole climbing-a-big-mountain thing. Would explain a lot about earlier-Jongho...

Although neither of them had actually said The Words about their… thing, it by this point was incredibly obvious. Obviously, Jongho would get that kiss, as soon as oxygen levels and lip chapped-ness permitted. 

“Well, they do say that to assume makes an ass of you and me, and you do have a fine ass..” Jongho winks, and Yeosang can’t believe he’s actually charmed by that. _Must be the slow brain-death, yep, definitely that..._

However, he didn’t feel quite … complete. Yeosang didn’t come to this mountain alone, and to celebrate all the way up there alone felt so profoundly _wrong_. He wanted to share this moment with his friend. 

Speaking of, Wooyoung was almost to the edge of the summit platform, screaming into the abyss, waving his arms with an energy Yeosang simply couldn’t muster up. He seemed in his own world, woohoo-ing like he was a fucking Sim. It seemed like nothing would rouse him from his moment. 

And then he turned around, freshly-shed tears already freezing onto his face. He had stopped shouting and was just smiling shyly, but the kind of smile that’s crooked with emotion. 

“Give me a hug,” he demanded lightly “I love you, Yeosang”

Then, Yeosang crumbled. He flung himself into Wooyoung’s arms and felt his own frozen tears against his face. Everything, the mountain, even Jongho, faded away as he clung to his friend. The pair cried in each others’ arms. Yeosang’s heart felt so damn full; not of oxygen but of something better, something that sustained him more. Wooyoung was similarly emotional, alternating between chugging oxygen through his mask and practically sobbing. 

“I’m so sorry” Wooyoung wailed, sniffling what must have been incredibly uncomfortable frozen snot.

“It’s okay, Youngie,” Yeosang placated, locking eyes with Jongho over Wooyoung’s shoulder as the boy continued to bawl, sharing a secret smile, “I forgive you.” The sheer joy and relief of their current circumstances making all the precious drama seem rather trivial, at least in that moment. 

Wooyoung pulled back from Yeosang’s shoulder and smiled, this time free of the sadness of minutes past. Yeosang, too, broke out into a grin, and everything suddenly seemed alright in the world again, even with their exhausted muscled and aching heads and swollen eyeballs. 

_Wow, the romance! The intrigue! Swollen_ fucking _eyeballs._

Wooyoung eventually calmed down and Jongho took some pictures of the pair, and Wooyoung risked removing his gloves long enough to send a text to San to say they’d made up. San responded with an excited video message from what appeared to be in his bathtub, but Yeosang was too happy to overthink or nitpick about the possibility of accidentally seeing San’s dick. 

But this beautiful, emotional, terrifying moment was only the half time whistle. Getting down was going to be even more dangerous. After what felt like only a few seconds but was really nearly half an hour, Pemba gathered their expedition again, and Jongho clipped Yeosang back into the rope to begin the long and treacherous descent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's not over!! I'm about to pop off about the dangers of the descent in the next chapter haha. I'm also hoping to write a fluffy epilogue that doesn't actually take place on a mountain!
> 
> Thanks!  
> Lin
> 
> My Twitter is [@yeosangfroid](https://twitter.com/yeosangfroid), so hit me up there or on [CuriousCat!](https://curiouscat.me/yeosangfroid)


	10. Day 25-26, Descent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The climb down felt somehow worse than the climb up. Not in the sense that Yeosang was in more pain, or more discomfort. Sure, he was more tired, but summiting had given him an energy boost unequal to anything he’d ever felt. The badness came from feeling like he had had everything in the palm of his hand for a few short minutes, and now it was all falling apart again. He’d not had Jongho, then he had Jongho, then he didn’t have Wooyoung. He’d just got his friend back, but was something going to take him away now, after all that? Yeosang couldn’t bear the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we are folks! I actually cannot believe it is the end for Summit Fever!! (Minus the epilogue of course!!! Which is coming!!!) Again, I’m not, like, overwhelming happy with this, because I feel like it would be so difficult to do justice to all the characters that have emerged in this story and all the ideas my lovely readers have had, but nevertheless, here it is!
> 
> TW: some descriptions of bodily injury and more mild peril!
> 
> I also wanted to take this opportunity to encourage you all to donate if you can to Black Lives Matter or a local affiliate organisation, such as ones organising Bail Bonds. Even if you do not have cash available at the moment, you can read literature to educate yourself, and/or sign as many petitions as you can. If you’re looking for an academic paper, I highly recommend Rickford&King (2016) [ “Language and linguistics on trial: Hearing Rachel Jeantel (and other vernacular speakers) in the courtroom and beyond“ ](https://www.linguisticsociety.org/sites/default/files/Rickford_92_4.pdf)\- it was co-authored by (my previous) Professor Who I really admire and raises some serious issues about black lives and black speech in the courtroom and in criminal proceedings more generally. DO NOT be complicit in white supremacy - you can help By educating yourself/raising money/educating others! And to any Black readers I have, know that I fully stand with you and I hope these stories can provide something of a mental break from the immense weight you must feel constantly knowing about the levels of institutional racism you face every day. 
> 
> I will continue to work on the Epilogue and please let me know your thought on this chapter and the fic in general in the comments! I wanted to thank all of you from the bottom of my cold mountainous heart for all your support and love for this fic. I have loved writing it, and your support has inspired me to now write more! So watch this space!

There are actually many ways to descend from Mt Everest. Some people ski, some base jump, and one dude even flew down (and also up) in a helicopter in 2005. Most people, however, choose the rather pedestrian option of walking down. That isn’t exactly a walk in the (national) park either. 

56% of those who die on the mountain do so on the descent. It’s nothing to get to the summit if you don’t make it off the mountain. Some of the biggest disasters in mountaineering history have occurred on descent, notably the 1996 Everest disaster, when 12 climbers died on Everest in a single season, 8 of them dying in a single day due to a severe blizzard. Several of the most famous deaths on Everest occurred on the descent, including Francys Arsentiev, the first American woman to summit Everest without additional oxygen, and Lobsang Tshering, the nephew of Tenzing Norgay. Tragically, Lopsang died on the 40th anniversary of his uncle being the first person in the world to summit Mt Everest, along with Edmund Hillary. 

The biggest causes of death on huge mountains are injury and exhaustion (and their respective associated problems), and both of these are far more likely to occur on the way down. Climbers have been going for over 12 hours, and have already achieved their primary objective, getting to the summit, so get sloppy. 

So, needless to say, this upcoming task was _somewhat of concern_ to our unlikely hero. 

At least, Yeosang thought, he had sunlight. That and the intense feeling of happiness that seemed to magically make his cells take in more oxygen.

The team was making their way back down the steep rock faces just above Camp IV. Still very much in the Death Zone, they were on borrowed time, and it was getting rather windy. The plan was to get down to Camp III, out of the Death Zone, collect themselves, and get some rest before making the rest of the climb down. Yeosang had overhead some heated discussions between Jongho and Pemba about temperatures and descent schedules, but felt so much like he was floating on the adrenaline rush of both summiting and getting Wooyoung back that he couldn’t much pay attention to dry logistics. 

The team was brought to a halt just before the Cornice Traverse, letting a team of soon-to-be-summiteers go past the treacherous one way shuffle. The other team shook their hiking poles in excitement passing the Long Trekking gang, and Yeosang shared many a nod with the excited adventurers soon to join the exclusive (-ish) summitters club with him. 

While they waited, Yeosang noticed the winds picking up quite a bit more. He felt colder than even during the midnight portion of the summit push. He just hoped the team ascending could get a fucking move on so they could get lower which would hopefully be warmer.

They had to wait for a while, maybe 45 minutes, for the whole ten to go past, and Yeosang amused himself by chatting with Wooyoung and Jongho, previously-held animosity fading in the morning light and the glow of their victory.

As Jongho picked up a radio transmission about some issue at Camp IV, Yeosang noticed Wooyoung go quiet and kick his leg out, jostling some loose snow beneath his feet. 

“You ok, man?” he asked. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah.” Wooyoung murmured unconvincingly. 

“You sure?” Yeosang , concerned. 

“Just, toes are a bit cold… stinging a bit” Wooyoung mumbled, which caught Jongho’s attention in an instant, and the guide stopped listening to his radio and dashed over to the pair.

“How do they feel? Explain to me, Wooyoung. Use your words.” Jongho’s eyes were wide and his voiced strained. 

“Just.. cold. Chilly. A little stiff?” Wooyoung seemedmore uncomfortable from Jongho’s way of acting than from his feet. 

Jongho closed his eyes for a second, and then took a deep breath and sighed. 

“Ok, ok. We need to descend as soon as possible.” He stalked off, reminding Yeosang of how he had been before everything this climb had brought. 

Jongho spoke to Pemba in hushed tones, and the sherpa nodded gravely, going to consult another sherpa working with the team currently on the traverse. After a minute or two, the other men nodded in understanding, and the unknown man spoke with what looked like his guide. Yeosang then realised the guide in question was Hongjoong, and that the climber in red about to pass Wooyoung and his position was, in fact, Mingi. 

The usually-excitable guide made it across the traverse and picked up his radio, listening for a transmission that Yeosang could see Hongjoong was making. At the end of the message, Mingi nodded to himself, stuffed his radio back into his suit and approached Jongho. Yeosang couldn’t see his eyes, because of the goggles, but his gait was aggressive and Yeosang could see his arms moving angrily, even through the thick suit. This was a monumental (hah!) shift from Mingi’s usual demeanour, and it only served to freak Yeosang out more. 

This _wasn’t_ the high-altitude reunion Yeosang had imagined. 

Yeosang wondered if Wooyoung was in as bad a way as this whole situation seemed to suggest. He’d read about frostbite, because every Everest movie on YouTube has a bit about frostbite. It’s a key trope in every Everest story. _But Wooyoung hadn’t been, like, out on a mountainside overnight in the Death Zone. He’d just felt a bit cold. And stinging. Was this really necessary?_

Jongho and Mingi finished their conversation and the guide returned to Wooyoung, grabbing his arm and ushering him over to the traverse.

“What’s going on?” Yeosang enquired, not liking the lack of talking in his direction about what was happening to his friend, and how no one was saying anything to him about it. 

“Gotta get him down” was all Jongho replied, sounding choked. 

Yeosang glanced back to Hongjoong on the other side, watching as the man explained to his own expedition that someone (he had pointed to Wooyoung) would be coming down the one-way route, so they’d have to wait. It was obvious that some of them were not happy about this. The time was eating into their daylight to make a safe summit, Yeosang understood that. 

They were afflicted with a desire to reach the summit at all costs, known as Summit Fever. Yeosang could sympathise with their perspective. Wooyoung wasn't like dying. He still knew where he was, and also knew that his toes were cold. So what was the deal?

Wooyoung began to cross the traverse, Jongho following behind him. Yeosang decided to see if Mingi would give him any information.

“Hey, Mingi,” he shouted across the harsh winds and his mask.

“Hi, are you okay?” He replied, oddly serious, as he made sure members of his team were properly secured to the rope to continue ascending. 

“Yes, of course. I don’t get what’s going on, is all,” Yeosang replied

“Listen. Wooyoung really needs to get down. I’m sorry but I don’t have time to sit and gossip with you right now Yeosang. I have clients and a closing weather window.” Mingi’s frankness was a huge shock. Yeosang had only ever seen the man being goofy, even during serious meetings at Base Camp. 

Yeosang just nodded, not having enough oxygen or energy to either fight back or try and persuade Mingi, and made his way over to Pemba, just in search of _what the hell he was supposed to do with himself while this apparently desperate crisis rumbled on around him._

Pemba was checking on Cathy, and turned around to Yeosang once he noticed the other’s presence. 

“Hi, you ok?” He said. Yeosang wished everyone wouldn’t open with that. He was fine. Everyone else seemed to not be fine. 

“Yes, fine. What’s going on? With Wooyoung?” He asked, ignoring Cathy’s gasp of shock.

“Needs to get down. Frostbite probably isn’t bad but Jongho is worried” Pemba replied, “we have to wait for Kim’s team to pass before we go down.”

“What? Why?” Yeosang had just watched the team wait so Jongho and Wooyoung could descend with no bother. How much longer would they have to wait there? How much distance would be put between himself and Wooyoung (and Jongho) in that time?

“They want to summit” Pemba looked at Yeosang as if he had just grown a second head and forgotten how logic works. 

Yeosang couldn’t argue with that, the more he thought about it. He’d be world-shatteringly pissed if anyone made him miss his own summit window. 

The remaining members of the expedition, now down to just Yeosang, Pemba, and Cathy by that point, waited until the whole of Mingi and Hongjoong’s team had crossed the traverse, another 25 minutes in the chilling winds. Yeosang didn’t know whether to be bored or terrified. 

Hongjoong was the last to cross, and he paused in front of Yeosang, clipping himself into the next line. 

“I’m sorry about this, Yeosang.” He comforted, or at least tried to. 

“I.. I just don’t know what’s happening?” Yeosang said.

“Jongho needs to take care of Wooyoung. I’m sorry that we separated you.” Yeosang wasn’t sure if Hongjoong was referring to Wooyoung or Jongho.

“Will Wooyoung be okay?”

“Hopefully, yes. Hopefully Jongho manages to deal with it properly.” The guide murmured.

_Manages to deal with it?_ Yeosang thought Jongho was this boy wonder, climbing without a hitch since he was a teenager? Why would there be any doubt as to his ability to manage it?

He sighed, having no option but to continue his descent and hope Camp III would yield some answers.

The climb down felt somehow worse than the climb up. Not in the sense that Yeosang was in more pain, or more discomfort. Sure, he was more tired, but summiting had given him an energy boost unequal to anything he’d ever felt. The badness came from feeling like he had had everything in the palm of his hand for a few short minutes, and now it was all falling apart again. He’d not had Jongho, then he had Jongho, then he didn’t have Wooyoung. He’d just got his friend back, but was something going to take him away now, after all that? Yeosang couldn’t bear the thought.

The journey to the South Col and Camp IV from the South Summit was quicker than the ascent had been, and for that Yeosang was thankful. They continuously ran into other summit bidders on the way up, and at one point, on the South Summit, Yeosang heard Pemba talking to another sherpa and mentioning Jongho’s name. Yeosang made a promise to himself to try and get some info out of Pemba before they made it to Camp III.

At the Balcony, the team swapped oxygen bottles, and Yeosang seized his chance. 

“Pemba, what did Jongho do?” He attempted.

The man sighed, and unscrewed Yeosang’s respirator from the gauge. He knew he was cornered. 

“Not my place to say, Yeosang. Something on Cho Oyu last season. Won’t be that bad this time. But Jongho blames himself, and lots of climbers did, too.” Pemba explained.

Yeosang tried not to gasp, knowing how much air that cost, “Why was it Jongho’s fault?”

“He’s the guide. His responsibility.” Pemba explained, immediately shutting it down by moving to help Cathy and ignoring the look of indignation and shock on Yeosang’s face.

Yeosang didn’t know how to feel about that information. 

While back at Camp IV, the group didn’t stay long, just got some water and changed oxygen again. While there, Pemba received a radio, and he spoke in Nepali before waving Yeosang over.

“They’re bathing his feet. Hopefully it will be ok” Pemba said, drinking the last of his water before setting up to leave again.

Sighing, Yeosang picked up his pack again, clipped into the fixed line down the South Col, and continued down. Putting one foot in front of the other, again, again and again. 

* * *

By the time he, Pemba and Cathy made it to Camp III, Yeosang was truly exhausted. He saw a group around one of the tents, and glanced back at Pemba to find him nodding in Yeosang’s direction. 

That was where they were trying to help Wooyoung.

Yeosang presumed Jongho was there too, but he caught out of the corner of his eye, the guide sitting in another tent, head down.

Yeosang knew he had to go check on Wooyoung, but he nonetheless felt drawn to go to Jongho and ask what the fuck was happening. This wasn’t how the post-Summit vibe was meant to be. It was supposed to be joyous, lighthearted, victorious. 

Sighing, he headed over to the tent where Wooyoung was being treated. His feet were being washed with water. His toes, in fairness to everyone freaking out, were quite weirdly-coloured. Not black, thank god, but a desaturated grey. Some purple blisters were forming as Apa poured more water. Wooyoung was laid back, being given water by, and speaking with, someone Yeosang didn’t know. 

“Wooyoung, are you okay?” He asked.

“I think so, yeah,” Wooyoung answered, looking a little scared but generally comfortable. 

“How do they feel?” He asked, gesturing to Wooyoung’s toes, “ _ Do _ they feel?”

“They’ve.. been better, but I still know they’re there” was the answer.

“They’ll need more bathing, but they should be okay if we can get him down safely as soon as possible” Apa piped up, moving to change out the water for a fresher batch. 

“Is Jongho okay?” Wooyoung asked.

“What? What do you mean?” Yeosang was so confused about who he was supposed to be worrying about. Could he get a fucking cue sheet or something? 

“He seemed really freaked out? When we were descending. The little 80’s ski dude ripped him a new one.” Wooyoung said, pausing in the middle to breathe more O’s. 

“I.. haven’t spoken to him” Yeosang admitted. 

“What the fuck are you doing here? Go and see frozen Casanova, stat. I’m fine. I finally have someone to bathe my feet. My feet! Tell Sannie I’m leaving him for Apa.”

“No thanks, man,” Apa said, chuckling.

Yeosang nodded, happy to see Wooyoung was in good spirits, but also acutely aware that plenty of people in good spirits have bad shit happen to them, especially on Mt Everest. 

He left the tent and went over to where Jongho was sulking. He was alone, silent, a huge contrast from the hubbub surrounding Wooyoung in the medical tent.

“Hey, what happened back there?” Yeosang asked. 

“I’m so sorry, so sorry” Jongho trailed off, picking at the lining of the tent.

“Dude, I don’t even know what I’m expected to be mad at you about?” 

“I was irresponsible. I’m still a bad guide.” Jongho seemed to be reciting something to himself, aware of, but not addressing, Yeosang.

“What do you mean still? What were you and Hongjoong talking about?” He asked.

“Is Wooyoung okay?” Jongho avoided.

“No, no sir,” Yeosang began, seeing Jongho’s eyes rise to meet him for the first time in the whole interaction, “he’s fine, but you are _not_ getting out of this that easily.”

Yeosang moved to sit next to Jongho, realising the guide had assembled their shared tent already, which is where the pair were sitting.

“Hyung was telling me off. Because I deserved it.” Jongho sighed.

“In what way did you deserve it? Wooyoung says he’ll be fine, as long as he can get down quickly there will be no problem” at that, Jongho tensed again.

“Jongho, you are very cute and I am very much investing into this IPO of cuteness, but you need to tell me what the fuck is happening. I can’t ask Hongjoong or Mingi because they’re still out there, and I want to hear it from you. Please?”

“Last season, I lead a group on Cho Oyu. All the clients were fit and ready. It doesn’t have the name branding of Everest but lots of people use it as a practice for other high-altitude peaks like Everest. We summited, and I felt amazing. I hadn’t actually ever led a group on an 8000-er before then, and I was elated that I had done it successfully. But on the way down, bad weather rolled in, and one kid...he got frostbite real bad. I didn’t notice the signs early enough, even though he was trying to tell me. I brushed it off as just being cold and at high altitude, and the kid didn’t bring it up again. I was so gassed up on my own success as a guide, I had foregone my clients, the people trusting me to look after them.” Jongho’s face was streaked with icy tears just like Yeosang’s on the summit.

“What happened? Was he ok?” Yeosang’s eyes widened. 

“We couldn’t descend until the weather improved, and I did everything I could.. but he lost his entire foot.” Jongho’s voice constricted, trying to not cry. 

Yeosang gasped.

“Hongjoong wasn’t on the mountain. He was on Manaslu, on the same Massif, and he heard the radio transmissions I made begging for help. We had to wait three days for the storm to pass, and then we descended to Camp 2, 7400m, where a helicopter picked him up. When the rest of the team got down okay, Hongjoong came and found me in the tea house and went off on one. He told me how irresponsible it is to not check the weather windows, especially with the novices I had with me. And ignoring the kid when he tried to tell me. And he was right. The dude lost his foot because I can’t be trusted. I promised Hongjoong it wouldn’t happen again, and it has.”

Yeosang didn’t want to derail Jongho’s explanation, because at least he was finally speaking about it, but he also needed Jongho to realise the differences between then and the present issue. 

“Jongho, what happened today is so totally different from that situation. There was no storm, we’re already back down, see? And Wooyoung won’t lose his foot, no fucking way!”

“How do you know?! We can’t do a heli rescue until we get back to Camp II, Everest is notoriously difficult to land a chopper on. So we are by no means out of the woods, and now I’ve lost your trust in me by hurting your friend, and Hongjoong hates me, and now Mingi will too because he just does what Hongjoong does.” Jongho was clearly spiralling. 

“Woah woah woah, slow down. First of all, It’s not like Woo’s toes are already falling off. Apa’s bathing up a storm, and if we need to, I will carry that boy down to Camp II, so it will definitely be okay.” Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Also, who the fuck are you to say whether you have lost my trust or not? I reserve that exclusive right thank you very much, and Wooyoung an I both understand clearly that doing this is dangerous. You can’t control the weather, Jongho. You can do your best to look after people but a bunch of shit is outside your control so don’t waste your time beating yourself up over it. And Hongjoong and Mingi will live. They were probably just worried. I don’t think either of them is capable of holding any kind of grudge. You were totally fine with them up until about four hours ago! You’re trying to tell me neither of them have ever had an accident on an expedition? I don’t believe that for a second.”

The tables truly had flipped. How is it that Yeosang, neurotic, insular, worried Yeosang was suddenly comforting the usually-vociferous and proud Jongho? The guide looked smaller and more withdrawn than Yeosang had ever seen him. 

Jongho just meekly nodded and moved to lay down. The pair remained close throughout the night, Yeosang once again ‘patting’ Jongho’s head with his freezing gloves. _Ah, creature comforts..._

Yeosang honestly didn’t think he had it in him. Although, to be fair, this week he seemed to be doing a lot of things he didn’t think he would be able to. Jongho beating himself up was pointless. Wooyoung would be okay (most likely) and Hongjoong and Mingi had gotten over themselves once, so they could surely do it again.

Yeosang wasn’t totally alleviated of concern though. The team still had to get Wooyoung down and seen by a proper doctor.

After a night at Camp III, they set off. Wooyoung seemed genuinely better. Before they left, Yeosang had taken a lot at his little piggies and they seemed much more alive than before. Still pale, but with fewer blisters and slowly returning to a normal skin colour, and moving when Wooyoung commanded them to. Apa insisted on carrying Wooyoung’s pack in addition to his own, so the man could move more freely and focus on his toes. Jongho looked mad at this, probably because he was going to pull the same move, Yeosang thought. But nevertheless, the group pushed on.

* * *

After another four days of muscle ache, coldness, and Jongho and Apa arguing over who would carry Wooyoung’s pack on a particular pitch (they alternated after Jongho sulked again), the team once again wound their way through the Khumbu Icefall and back toBase Camp.

A relatively large crowd was there to welcome them back toland, including, thankfully, a trained medical doctor from Iceland who quickly whisked Wooyoung away. Despite the arduous descent and the chilly feet, Wooyoung didn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

“So, I heard that, like, hotdogs are really popular in Iceland? What’s the deal with that? I went to Reykjavik once. Lovely town, expensive coffee though. And how do you guys live without McDonald-“ Yeosang watched as Wooyoung walked with the doctor to the medical tent, and was satisfied that he’d be _just fine._

However, despite his relief and happiness at making it back, Yeosang still felt disconnected from all the furore over their homecoming, too tired and overwhelmed and worried to really process the celebrations or the hugs from Yunho and the other Base Camp staff. He was relieved to see Rob and Cathy reunite, the man doing much better than when Yeosang had last seen him.

Jongho was off to the side, talking quietly with Yunho and another man Yeosang didn’t know.

_ Why were so many Korean-Americans on this mountain? None of the documentaries had mentioned this, but Yeosang decided it was definitely emerging as a theme.  _

He sat down on the craggily rocks that formed the ground at Base Camp, eventually laying down and letting his body just _stop_. Flushed with happiness at laying his body on not-ice, he inhaled deeply and stared up at the sky. From the corner of his eye he could see the shadow of Everest’s summit. The place he’d been standing only four days previously now felt like a light year away. Sinking further onto the (actually not that comfortable, what did he expect exactly?) rocks, he let it wash over him that he had done it. It was over. It was all okay.

_Except it wasn’t_. Yeosang still worried about Wooyoung.

When he raised his head again, sitting up to alleviate his aching back from lying on the rocks, he was met with the view of Jongho hugging the mystery Yunho-adjacent dude over by the mess tent. 

What the?

Yunho obviously saw Yeosang, and his accompanying confusion, and waved him over with a look that said “don’t say no”. Upon approaching, he saw Jongho was crying, the other dude patting him on the back.

Yunho gave Yeosang a small thumbs up, nodding his head towards the pair. He could hear the other dude saying something softly.

“It’s okay, JJongie. They were just worried. Please don’t cry. You should be celebrating! Mingi feels so bad about shouting at you that he's already cried about it twice!” The man looked up and met Yeosang’s eyes as he spoke, prompting him to make Jongho detach from him. Jongho clearly hadn’t noticed Yeosang, so resisted at first, but the other man insisted.

“Your boy is here, Ho-Ho.” He said.

Jongho looked up, and stared at Yeosang for a second before rushing into his arms like a bat out of hell.

“I’m so sorry Sangie. I’m so sorry. Everything is going to be okay, though. It’s okay. Please don’t worry.” He practically wailed. 

“He’ll calm down in, like, 25 seconds. I’m Seonghwa by the way. I’m with _KimSong_ treks.” The man smiled boxily.

“Are Hongjoong and Mingi mad at him?” Yeosang couldn’t help but ask.

“No, they’re fine. They were just worried. It’s a high pressure situation up there, as I’m sure you know.” Seonghwa explained, “They were just worried for your friend, and for Jongho’s future as a guide. But they both feel guilty about how much they freaked out; they can’t hold a grudge. Water under the bridge.”

“Ice” Yunho quipped in response, and Seonghwa punched him in the shoulder affectionately. The pair shared a look, and Yeosang knew, for multiple reasons, that they should break up this gay party and get some privacy. .

“We’re gonna go sit down, thanks guys.” Yeosang decided for the both of them, Jongho still clinging to his waist and nuzzling into his shoulder like his life depended on it.

“Okay, nice to meet you!” Seonghwa smiled, grabbing Yunho’s hand and heading off to wherever Base Camp monitors live while checking the weather and, presumably, banging.

Yeosang and Jongho made it to Jongho’s leader’s tent, the guide mostly calming down and ceasing to cry big, wet _Studio Ghibli_ tears.

They shared a look, laid back on the crappy camping bed that somehow now felt like a 6 Star Dubai hotel with questionable workers’ rights. The release of tension they’d been holding on the mountain, the fear for their lives, left them exhausted, jelly-like limbs barely holding their own weight up. Now was the time to rest, and pretty much only rest. 

Jongho quickly shed his previous sadness in favour of more cheesy lines, seemingly calmed by Yeosang’s presence and the return of oxygen to his cells. Hongjoong and Mingi had returned the next day, embracing Jongho for an almost uncomfortably long time. Yeosang hadn’t escaped the affectionate pair either. Mingi had also cried. Again. 

The sun bore into the tent, bathing the pair in a warmth they’d sure been missing up there, kilometres in the air. And yet, this warmth had a familiar edge. The comfort of being around each other, after it all was said (claimed) and done. 

Jongho moved to gather Yeosang in his arms, touching his face and hair now that they could be exposed without freezing off. 

“So, baby, they say that the best view comes after the hardest climb.” He whispered into Yeoang’s ear, twirling the other man’s hair around his fingers. _Gay brain, now back and functioning on Yeosang’s spare oxygen intake, basically exploded_. 

“Oh my god, how do I have a crush on you? Get the fuck away from me!” Yeosang shrieked, but grinned and pulled Jongho closer anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that’s it folks! For now at least! 
> 
> My Twitter is [@yeosangfroid](https://twitter.com/yeosangfroid), so hit me up there or on [CuriousCat!](https://curiouscat.me/yeosangfroid)
> 
> And please remember to support Black Lives Matter however you can!
> 
> Lin


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